His Homecoming
by HerenyaHope
Summary: WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THE END OF DA:I! It's been three years since Solas left the Inquisition and his beloved. But when a rising threat forces him to return to Skyhold, he soon discovers the full consequences of his departure, and must struggle to mend broken bonds, forge a new one, and fight to save those he loves. Some Pairings: Solavellan, Doribull, Blackwall/Josephine, ect
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: YES I KNOW NEW STORY I'M SO BAD!**

**Yes I know I should be working on my other stories *cough*homeiswhereyourloveis*cough* but I swear I just got this idea and I be ridin' this idea train. I sorta wrote this in one go but the creative juices were really flowing on this one, and also has some of my own feeling for the end of Inquisition scattered in there. As it said in the description this takes place three years after the ending to Inquisition****and involves my Dalish elf mage Nimwen. **

**Anywho, on with the story~!**

Skyhold had changed very little since Solas last laid eyes on it. A few walls had been prepared, new fortifications along the ramparts added, but otherwise Skyhold was still the same impressive stone fortress it had been three years ago.

It hadn't been easy to remain hidden from the Inquisition spies searching for him. He knew that the Inquisition would send people out to locate him, and he was not foolish enough to underestimate Leiliana's spy network. It had been a challenge, but he had succeeded. Three years he managed to stay one step ahead of any attempts to find him, three years of a cat-and-mouse game he came to be the winner of. Until now, when he was about to forfeit it all.

The elf pulled his hood further over his head, to block out the bitter wind whistling through the mountains. He walked with his staff in his hand, the butt of the weapon thumping the ground with every step he took, ticking down the minutes until he was to arrive to his fate. He finally stood before the great iron gates of Skyhold, and was immediately approached by the guards stationed by the entrance.

"State your business," one of the armoured guards demanded.

"I must speak with Inquisitor Levellan." The name was bitter on his tongue, but his face remained stoic. The guard snorted.

"What makes you think you can just get an audience with her Worship unannounced?"

"I have vital information that must be brought to her attention."

"Hold on…" The other guard looked at him suspiciously.

"Let me see your face," he requested.

Solas removed his hood, and remained unfazed at the look of shock on the guard's face.

"Holy shit," the guard gasped.

"If you know who I am, then you know you should be letting me in," Solas said, voice hinted with warning. The guard nodded dumbly.

"Open the gate!" he shouted to the men on the wall. As the large doors slowly opened the mage strode through them, feeling a sense of nostalgia come over him as he stepped into the grounds of Skyhold. His nostalgia became tainted by dread as hushed voices and shocked whispers buzzed around him. He knew that his presence had already been alerted to the one he came to see, and nervousness knotted in his throat as he got closer and closer to the first _and _last person he wanted to see.

Her anger was apparent the moment he stepped into the greathall. The visiting nobles, flittering servants, and guards were gone, no doubt scattered by the terrifying entity that was the Inquisitor's anger. His steps echoed loudly as strode to the second to last door on the left. The war room: he didn't need to be told that's where he was to meet with her, and she knew it too.

He walked down the narrow hall, through Josephine's office-devoid of the Antivan woman-and walked until he stood outside the wooden doors to the war room. This was his last chance to flee, to go back into hiding where neither spies nor mercenaries could find him. Instead, he steeled his nerves and pushed open the doors with an ominous groan.

Three people awaited him, two facing him, the other with her back turned to him.

"I see the report was true," The words were venomous on the sweet sounding accent. Solas smiled hollowly.

"Hello, Leiliana."

The spymaster crossed her arms, now mimicking the stance Cullen had been making since Solas entered the room.

"Commander," the mage nodded to the ex-Templar. By the poorly-hidden glare on Cullen's face, the elf knew that the blond was resisting the urge to say something.

Solas' eyes turned to the woman who still faced away from him.

"Inquisitor," he said quietly. The one word made her posture stiffen, and slowly she turned to face him.

Nimwen.

She was almost exactly as he remembered her.

Her hair was longer. The raven black tresses fell to the bottom of her shoulder blades when before it just grazed the tops of her shoulders. Her fair skin still looked flawless over her round face, with the lightest of pinks dusting her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her eyes were still the wintery blue that would transfix him with the simplest of gazes, and were still fanned by the dark lashes that noblewomen had to use cosmetics and tonics to emulate. She still had her lithe frame, but there was a subtle change in her hips and chest; more prominent, curvier, making her appear more like the woman she actually was.

Her eyes were blank, and her usually plump lips were pressed into a thin line. Solas felt his heart leaden at the coldness in the eyes that once held so much affection. He fought to keep his face passive.

"You came back."

There was no kindness in her words.

"I-"

She raised a hand, and he was silent. She strode over to him, the tail of her coat swishing against her legs.

"Three years you've been gone." In her voice was a brewing storm.

"Three years since you left without a word, without a _goodbye._"

Solas did his best to hide his flinch, but she saw it.

"Oh, does that bother you? Well, it sure was bothersome for me when I was spending nights searching for you in the Fade, and half the Inquisition's resources looking for you, not to mention the times hours I spent wondering if you were dead or just tired of me."

"Vhenan please I-"

"Din emma na vhenan!"

Cullen managed to grab hold of the Inquisitor before she could lunge at the startled apostate. Her stoic mask was gone, replaced by anger and hurt that made Solas feel like he'd been struck by a maul.

"Please, Inquisitor restrain yourself," said Leiliana. Though the Dalish women eventually calmed herself, the commander still had his arms around her waist in case she tried to make a move once more.

As the one level-headed person in the room, Leiliana addressed the mage herself.

"Solas, explain why you are here."

Shaking himself of his emotional stupor, Solas told them what had pushed him to return to Skyhold.

"After my…departure," blue eyes burned at him. "I began seeking out other elven artefacts that could prove a threat as the foci did, and recently I discovered something that could put everyone in danger."

The red-headed woman's eyes piqued.

"Go on," she said.

"There is a woman named Mordolwen who-"

"No don't go in there!"

All eyes turned as the doors were thrust open and a blur of yellow came bounding in followed by a frazzled Josephine.

"Maker, no," Cullen groaned.

"Josephine I told you to keep her out!" Nimwen screamed.

"I'm sorry, she got out of my sight and I tried grabbing her but…"

Solas paid no attention to the Antivan woman as she babbled out frantic apologies; instead he was looking at the one who had barrelled into the room like a charging bull. The little girl beamed at everyone and thrust her small muddy hands out to show the large carrot she was holding.

"Lookit! Lookit! I finally grew one! And-" The little girl noticed Solas' presence, and cocked her head to the side.

"Who're you?" she asked innocently. She turned to look at the Inquisitor.

"Who's that man, mama?"

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: AWWW SHIT!**

**Yup. Problably didn't see THAT coming, did you Solas? How does our dear dread wolf react to this little tidbit, let me know if you want me to continue with this story, because I'm getting good vibes from this one.**

**Elvish**

**Vhenan: Love**

**Din emma na vhenan!: I am no longer your love! (Roughly translated from the list of Elvish on the Dragon Age Wiki, if it is incorrect let me know!)**


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**** HELLO AGAIN MY LOVELIES!**

**Now I may be slow in updating, but I am making a promise to try and update at least every two weeks, but don't hold me to that.**

**Shout outs to Ickypicky892, hp3l3ssromantic, Parliament of Ravens, peeho1e, tasuki41089, and everyone else that has followed, faved, and read. You guys rock!**

**Any who, on with the story!**

Time stopped within the confines of the war room. Everyone stood with baited breath, waiting to see what the next move would be. Solas had seen many things, experienced moments and scenes from ages long passed, and had stood witness to almost all of the wonders the Fade had to offer. In truth, not often did anything in the waking world ever pique his intrigue, and rarely did the physical world ever show him something that truly amazed him. What was before him was, in all honesty, nothing truly extraordinary; it was rather plebeian when compared to what could be found amongst spirits, demons, and the living past. Yet there Solas stood, utterly mystified. His narrow eyes widened, his mouth open in an expression of surprise, and he felt like he'd just been frozen where he stood.

_She_ was a tiny thing, as was the case with elf children, and barely reached _her_ mother's knee. A plain blue dress with puffed sleeves and dirt stains hung loosely from _her_ thin frame, the result of genetics rather than malnutrition, and the skirt ended just above knobby knees connected to skinny legs and tiny bare feet. _Her_ hair fell down _her_ back in waves that looked soft as bird feathers, and appeared to have yet to be cut. _Her_ tresses were buttery yellow, a colour Solas had not seen since long ago, when he wore a younger man's clothes and a younger man's hair.

The little girl looked back and forth between the adults as if wondering why they were all being quiet. _She_ seemed to sense the tension in the room, because _she_ toddled over to Nimwen and began tugging on her coattail.

"What's wrong, mama?" the child asked. At the sound of the little voice, the Inquisitor blinked and quickly snapped out her own stupor.

"Nothing, da'len, all is well," said the Dalish woman, smiling at the girl reassuringly.

"Who's that man?" The little elven girl pointed a chubby finger at Solas and eyed him with curiosity. There was no malice or intensity of any kind in _her_ young blue eyes, and yet _her_ gaze was powerful enough that Solas felt something come over him that he knew not how to respond to.

"Nobody, just one of mama's agents," Nimwen quickly lied. The she-elf looked up at the Ambassador.

"Josie, please take her out," she said quietly.

"Of course," the Antivan replied, her face still riddled with guilt.

"Come on, Lori," Josephine cooed, steering the girl towards the door with a hand on _her _back. She purposefully placed herself between the girl and Solas.

"Aunt Josie, did I do something bad?" _she_ asked, blue eyes wide. The child seemed confused, holding the dirt covered carrot to _her_ chest like it was a doll.

"No, no sweetie, you just came in at a bad time," Josephine assured the girl, lifting _her_ up in her arms.

"But I grew a carrot," the girl pouted.

"And it is a lovely carrot, but mama is busy," the ambassador explained as she shifted the girl to her hip.

"Now come on, I think that I saw Scout Harding return from her trip to the Emerald Graves, and I'm sure she has brought something back for you."

The yellow haired child gasped with excitement.

"Bugs?" _she _asked hopefully.

"I don't know; let's go see if she brought back bugs, shall we?"

"Bugs!"

As the little girl squealed at the prospect of insects, the Antivan woman sent the Inquisitor a look of sympathy as she and the child left the room.

As if it hadn't been awkward before, the unease in the room became almost suffocating. Nimwen rubbed her temples, hoping to ward off her impending headache. When she worked up the nerve to gaze at Solas, his face was a mix of shock, confusion, and such a deep sadness that it almost completely crushed her resolve. But it was not enough.

"So Solas, what were you saying about a woman?" It was a piss poor attempt to disregard what had just happened, but Nimwen had to start somewhere. Solas still looked at the closed doors, as if the girl was suddenly going to appear once more. When he heard the Inquisitor address him, he turned to her in disbelief. Was she honestly going to say nothing of what just happened?

"Nimwen, tell me-"

"Leiliana, tell the others to meet in here, I think they should be here for the discussion of this "Mordalwen" person."

"As you wish, your worship."

"And Cullen, did you ever hear word from the men stationed in the Western Approach?"

The commander seemed startled by the sudden question.

"Uh-uh, yes. They said that their supplies did arrive and that they are now fully stocked."

"Very good, and now we need to start thinking about a new supply route to prevent anymore late deliveries." the Dalish woman looked at her general.

"Go talk to the scout leaders and see if there's an alternate route they can use."

"Of course," Cullen said. He tried to control his walking, as to not make it obvious he was trying to get out of the room as quickly as possible. Still, the rapid clinking of armour gave away his rush as the blond commander strode out of the war room, shutting the doors behind him with a defining thud. Nimwen's eyes had followed Cullen as he left, and once the doors closed she began staring down at the map table, and generally just avoided looking at Solas.

Solas knew that she was intentionally ignoring the druffalo in the room, as was her way when things became stressful. He himself was still in a state of shock, half convinced he was dreaming, and had it not been for his experience with the world of dreams, he would have believed it. Still, this was not something to ignore.

"Nimwen-"

There came a crinkling noise, the sound of the Dalish woman clawing at the map with her nails. When she realized what she was doing, the mage released her grip and tried smoothing out the wrinkled parchment. Despite her calm exterior, the other mage knew that she must be struggling to keep herself together. For a brief moment, he imagined the possibility of Cole suddenly appearing to try and relieve some of the distress Nimwen must have been under. He hoped that would not be the case. Now that the two were finally alone, Solas felt like some of the pretence had fallen away.

"I didn't know," he suddenly blurted out. It was the first thing he felt like saying, for truly, he had no idea. He had been tempted to check in on the Inquisitor, to watch her from the Fade. He wanted nothing more than to see her face, even it was only her dream self, even if she would not have been able to see him. He forced himself to keep away, every fibre in his being dedicated to ignoring the tendrils he could sense in the Fade that would lead to her. He did this, for he knew that if he saw her, even within the realm of spirits with her unaware, that it would be all it took for him to give into temptation and return to Skyhold and her embrace. Now though, he wished he had fell to the temptation, because then he might have learned sooner of her.

At his words, Nimwen's face twisted into a bitter smile.

"I know," she answered calmly. Her acceptance surprised him, however he knew not whether it was a sign for good or a bad.

This distantness, it was wrong on her. She had been willing to speak her mind and her feelings to almost everyone, and it was to him that she had divulged some of her most intimate secrets, even when he would not do the same. She was an open book, and this closed off behaviour made Solas feel like he was talking to an impersonator, a desire demon in the guise of his beloved. However, he supposed that he had lost his right to her ever free-spirit a long time ago.

"Please vhenan, let us talk about this," he pleaded.

"Solas, please." The elven man heard the catch in her voice, and her face bore the same feelings of conflict that Solas was having.

"There will be a time when we can speak more of this, but right now I need you as my agent, here to give us information on a potential threat."

The bald man wanted to press further, however he held his tongue. Nimwen seemed slightly relieved at his silence.

"I need to make arrangements. Stay here. And by the Creators, if you even think about moving from this room, I will give you to Dagna to be used in experiments."

Solas could not help it when the corner of his mouth twitched upwards at the barest hint of the jests that once flew back and forth between them. For a moment he thought that there was a spark of mischievousness in Nimwen's eyes, but if it had been there at all it was quickly squelched as the Inquisitor put on her front and walked stiffly passed him. The clicking of her heels echoed in his ears, and before he could stop himself, he found himself saying,

"Her name is Lori?"

The clicks halted. Solas turned and saw Nimwen with her hand on the door, shoulders stiff.

"Lorien, but everyone calls her Lori."

She looked at him from over her shoulder. Solas could not determine what he saw in the wintery pools of her eyes, just that it was raw emotion.

"She'll be turning three in a few weeks," she added in a quiet murmur. Before Solas could even decide whether to reply or not she was gone, with the sound of wooden doors replacing her presence.

Solas was now alone; just as he had been for the past three years, and for many years before that.

Now that he was by himself with only his thoughts, he became victim to a tidal wave of them. Nimwen had a child, he had a child, _they_ had a child. A child! Solas tried to think of how this could be possible. He and Nimwen had only lain with each other once, the night before they journeyed to the Temple of Mythal. That had been the only time, but it only took one time, the mage had to remind himself.

That's when it hit him. She must have been with child during their final battle with Coryphaeus. The thought made Solas ill. That fight with the madman and his corrupted dragon had been by far the worst battle they had ever been in, and it was only by the skin of their teeth that they succeeded in slaying the false god. His mind relived the moments between shooting out lightning and sending out healing magic when he saw the Dalish mage dodging dragon-fire and crushing blows, and suddenly everything had a new light on them. He thought back to every time she had been thrown across that crumbling courtyard, the times he watched in fear as the wind of the dragon's beating wings sucked her closer to the beast, and every scratch and bruise he had healed now seemed like fatal wounds. How easy would it have been to lose the child from a wrong blow to the stomach, or just the strain on her mana alone?!

Solas leaned against the war table, his sweating palm pressed against the wooden surface for support.

Was she even aware of her condition during that fight?

'_No,'_ he immediately thought to himself. She hadn't known. She may have been the Inquisitor, but she was still Nimwen Levellan, and that woman was a worrier if there ever was one; her generous nature, concern for the small folk, and her love of children was known by everyone. No way would she have thrown herself into battle if she knew she was with child.

That meant she must have discovered it after he left…

He staggered, feeling as though he had been dealt a physical blow. He pressed his palm to his forehead, trying and failing to find any solace within the storm of his head. It was futile. It was all too much.

He had a child.

He had only referred to her as "the child" or "the little girl." It made it somewhat easier, to make it seem like he was not associated with _her_ or _her_ creation, to make it seem like there was a small gleam of hope that this could all just be a mistake. Unfortunately, he was beyond pretending.

At first, he was willing to amuse the notion that Nimwen could have perhaps taken another lover during his three year absence. It was not so hard to believe. She was indeed a beautiful woman, and Solas knew with certainty that there were many men, and perhaps women, who would grab at the chance to have the Inquisitor in their beds. But this idea became moot the moment he laid eyes on _her_. _She_ looked so much like _her_ mother: the same pale skin, the winter coloured eyes, and the full pink lips. But there was no doubting that those high cheekbones, narrow seed shaped eyes, and yellow hair, could only have come from one person.

"I have a daughter," he whispered to himself. He had said it aloud, and therefore it was real.

"Her name is Lorien." The name was heavy on his tongue. It sounded like music, Lorien.

"I have a daughter…" It tasted sweet, too sweet, guilt mixed pleasure of eating a stolen piece of candy. It was a wondrous thing that he did not deserve. The silence was smothering. Solas crumpled into one of the chairs. He set his elbows on the table and bowed his head, resting his chin on his knuckles. Solas' skull pounded with the thousand voices screeching every mistake he'd ever made, every vow he had broken, every reason why what was to come could only end in misery. And he had nobody to blame but himself, and the only victims would be his beloved and...

"Her name is Lorien." The fort of stoicness he had vowed to maintain finally crumbled, and for the first time in many ages, Fen'Harel wept.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**** The angst is strong with this one…**

**Indeed this, aside from my other DA fic, "What the Night has Brought" is probably going to be the most angst-filled thing I've ever written. But rest assured my lovelies, all will not be doom and gloom, and there shall be fluffy bunnies around to soak up all the manly elf tears.**

**Quick question! What do you think of our dear baby elf's name? I've always loved the name Lorien and I thought it would be cute if she was nicknamed "Lori." I'll have fun when we get to learn more about her, but this will be the first time I've written for a child character that will be the focus of the story, so if any of you who have written kid characters, or find yourself surrounded by little tots often, let me know if you have any advice on how to write for a little kid.**

** Alright, I have been rambling for long enough, stay tuned for the next chapter, which I have somewhat started.**

** FAVS, FOLLOWS AND REVIEWS ARE RECEIVED WITH LOVE!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****I'M BACK!**

**Hello my lovelies, sorry for the delay. I still have a lot of projects to work on, but I really wanted to get this chapter done. This is probably one of the most emotional things I've ever written, so be careful ye who enter here!**

**Shout outs to Amethyst -Guardian- Lycure, N3mesis, rainbowzebra215, Takami L. Sagara, Ixaram, Miss Megz, romanceobbsesed, MissBilboBaggins14, Darkness is where I thrive, leagirl125, and everyone else who is following and reading my story, you guys mean a lot to me!**

** Anywho, on with the story!**

It might as well have been a room full of Orleasians, what with all the masks being worn. They were not literal masks, rather facades of level headedness used to disguise the myriad of emotions being felt within the war room. Solas' eyes glanced over the members of the Inner Circle, his old companions. They had changed little, aside from the cold stares where there had once been friendship. When they were not looking at him, their eyes were flickering towards the Inquisitor, wondering how she was being so calm.

The she-elf clapped her hands together, calling everyone to attention.

"Now, before we begin," she said with a forced smile.

"I would like all conversations to be restricted solely to the topic at hand. Anyone who steers this meeting to...other topics-"

All eyes drew not so subtly to Solas.

"-shall be asked to leave. Now, shall we begin?"

"Are fuckin' kiddin' me?!"

It surprised nobody when Sera spoke up. The yellow haired archer pointed an accusing finger at the elven mage.

"You really gonna just let this shite-stain come waltzin' back in without a word, yeah, and we're supposed to be all businessy and not askin' about nothing?"

"Sera, I said that this meeting was going to be professional-"

"No way! Make him bloody explain himself!"

"Sera by the Creators if you do not keep quiet I will kick you out of here and then burn all the curtains in your room!"

Startled, the archer girl quickly backed down, but not before sending a lethal glare at Solas.

A chuckle breached the silence.

"Well, isn't this absolutely dramatic?" Everyone looked at Dorian, who was smirking in amusement.

"Makes me feel like I'm right back home," he sighed fondly. His jesting lifted a thin layer of the unease that polluted the room, enough at least for brewing tempers to stagnate for the time being.

"Getting back on track," said Nimwen through gritted teeth.

"Solas here says that there is a threat that requires the attention of the Inquisition. Something about a woman named Mordalwen?"

"Yes," answered Solas.

"During one of my journeys to the Fade, one of my oldest friends brought something to my attention; something with grave consequences should they be true."

"Get on with it!" snapped Sera.

"Spirits are going missing. These spirits have no desire to enter our world, and yet whole groups of them are disappearing. Not only that, but high ranking demons, those who rule over their own pockets of the Fade and send out minions to do their bidding in the waking world, are gone too. And to make matter even worse, pieces of the Fade are gone as well."

"Pieces of the Fade?" Blackwall repeated incredulously.

"How is that even possible?" asked Nimwen.

"There are records, and fragments in the Fade, that depict ancient elven artefacts that had the ability to store parts of the Fade within them. These could be used to store dreams, memories, the abstract concepts of the Fade itself, and then play them back like a record. These devices were called Dream Catchers."

"That sounds like how the Shaperate uses Lyrium to record memories," said Varric.

"It is very similar," Solas replied. Then his face became grave.

"But I fear that this goes much further than just the recording of dreams."

"What are you trying to say, Solas?" Nimwen asked.

"There is evidence to suggest that the ancient elves attempted to...expand on the capabilities of the Dream Catchers. They started to develop another device that would, in theory, be able to give physical form to whatever had been stored inside the Dream Catchers. These devices were called the Dream Weavers."

"That...doesn't sound good," said the Iron Bull.

"No, it doesn't. The applications to do good would have been extraordinary, but that also applies to bad intentions. Imagine to most horrific scenes from the Fade, people's nightmares, the machinations of demons. Now, imagine all these things, which up until now have been safe within the confines of the Fade, being made real in our world."

Silence fell over the war room.

"And how does this "Mordalwen" play into this?" asked Blackwall.

"From what I've gathered, she is currently hunting down every Dream Catcher she can find and is using them to trap spirits, demons, and memories from the Fade. What her motives are, I have no idea."

"Who is this Mordalwen person anyway?" asked Nimwen.

"I actually have records of her, Inquisitor," admitted Leliana.

"Not much is known of her, what we do know is that she is a mage from Rivain. Her name came up during our investigation of Coryphaeus."

"What?! If she was one of Coryphaeus' followers, tell me why was she not dealt with!" demanded Nimwen.

"According to our sources, she was not a follower of Coryphaeus. She only came up in name, in a document we managed to acquire from a captured Venetori agent. It seems she was more of a consultant than anything, and it appeared that she gave advice on how to take full advantage of the Red Lyrium's properties. She herself was a neutral party in regards to Coryphaeus' cause, and after her initial assistance she cut all Venetori ties."

"Still, why was she not found?" asked Nimwen.

"Like I said, her name only came up in writing, and we could find no actual leads to track her down. Since she did not outright support Coryphaeus and appeared no longer helping him, we deemed her a minor player and focussed our efforts elsewhere."

"Well, looks like she's taking centre stage now," said Varric sarcastically.

"What do we do? You saying she's going to bring the worst of the Fade to our world?" asked Iron Bull.

"That is where we are in luck," said Solas.

"Right now her Dream Catchers are useless unless she can obtain a Dream Weaver to bring them to life."

"And you assume she has yet to find one?" asked Leliana.

"I _know_ she hasn't. I was unaware that there were any Dream Catchers still in existence, and it is not clear whether the ancients managed to even _create_ a Dream Weaver. If it has taken her this long to collect any Dream Catchers, than I am certain she has yet to obtain a Dream Weaver."

"So what do suggest we do?" asked Leliana.

"Right now her goal is to gather as many Dream Catchers as she can. We need to track them down and get them before she can. As well, we need to investigate and see if there is a Dream Weaver in existence, and obtain that as well before she can use them to bring to life the visions she's already collected."

"I see." Nimwen folded her arms.

"You all are dismissed. Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen. I want you all to begin searching for these Dream Catchers, and if the rest of you have any way of helping, I want you to utilize them."

As everyone went to leave Nimwen held up a hand.

"Solas." Everyone paused, eyes on the elven mage.

"You will stay. I must speak to you in private."

No sooner than the words were said that everyone else made a beeline for the door, not wishing to be caught in the crossfire.

They were alone once more. Tension filled the air like a static cage. Solas looked at the Inquisitor, waiting.

"Why?"

She turned to him, eyes burning.

"Why did you leave?" she asked. Her voice sounded of betrayal. The elf man willed himself to remain strong.

"Because I had no choice."

"Bullshit."

Solas was startled by the use of foul language.

"That is bullshit, Solas." Nimwen slowly approached him, her voice wavering with suppressed rage.

"I told you, I left to find other elven artefacts-"

"You could have done that here!" she screamed, throwing her hands in the air.

"You could have done your search here, with the full resources of the Inquisition-for fuck's sake that's why you came back! Because you needed our help! Why couldn't you have just stayed in the first fucking place!?"

"It's much more complicated than that-"

"Complicated?" A bitter chuckle left her lips.

"No Solas, leaving me, that's not complicated. Complicated is having the man you love reveal that the marks you wore proudly on your face were those of a slave. Complicated is having that same man abandon you, without a trace, days before you discovered that you're _pregnant_. Complicated is crying at night wishing that man would reach out to you in your dreams, but they are empty."

Solas felt his heart clench. He wanted her to stop, but he knew that this was his punishment, and that he would endure it.

"Complicated is carrying that child, knowing that they will the reminder of what you've lost. Complicated is-"

Nimwen's voice caught, and she had to pause to collect herself.

"Complicated," she began with a shaking voice. Her eyes bore into his, as stinging as a blizzard.

"Is finding your little girl staring at the paintings in the rotunda, and turning to you and saying _'Somebody said that my daddy made these, is that true, mama?'_ and you telling her, _'Yes sweetheart, your daddy did paint those.' _And complicated is knowing that your daughter will only know her father, as the man who made the fucking rotunda frescoes!"

Her voice had risen with each word until she was yelling so loud the sound reverberated off the walls. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she hid her face in her hands as she hiccupped out choked sobs.

Solas' heart shattered, and he felt his own eyes well up.

"I'm sorry," he whispered with the voice of a man destroyed.

"I'm so sorry." His cheeks were wet, but he made no move to wipe them.

"I wanted to stay," he continued, slowly moving towards her like she was a wounded Halla.

"I wanted nothing more than to spend forever at your side, I still want that, but I couldn't stay."

"Why?" she croaked, looking up at him with red eyes.

"I can't tell you," he whispered pitifully. The knot in his throat made it harder and harder to speak.

"Why. Can't. You?" she said over tears. His face was contorted in anguish. He felt so vulnerable, so exposed, as he was being confronted with his own façade.

"Because you would hate me," he confessed. He was caught off guard by the fist hitting him square in the chest. It was not a painful blow, the fist having been trained to cast magic and not to punch, but the surprise hit him more than if it had hurt.

"You led me on!" Hit.

"You made me feel loved and then pulled away right after!" Hit.

"You made me realize my people's stories were lies!" Hit.

"You broke my heart!" Hit.

"You left me with a daughter who would never know her father!" Hit.

"You come back into my life and tear it up all over again!" Hit.

Every sentence ended with a weak punch to his chest. Solas let her strike him. He stood motionless as he allowed his once beloved to unload three years of harboured pain and rage. In the end she was left panting, hands pressed flat against his chest.

"And y-yet…" she stammered with a broken voice. Her hands curled into the fabric of his tunic, as if it were a lifeline.

"And yet after all that...I still love you."

Solas' eyes widened, not expecting her say such a thing. Slowly, she looked up at him, the pain and sorrow so evident in her eyes it was as if they had been carved with the emotions.

"So do you truly think that after all that, whatever secret you hold could get me to stop loving you?"

Taking a chance, Solas reached up and covered the hands on his chest with his own. They trembled under him, the skin the same cold comforting skin that he remembered them to be.

"...yes," he confessed, eyes shining. He expected for the hand to pull away from him, or to hit him again. Instead, he was surprised when thin fingers turned to link with his own.

"Alright," whispered Nimwen. Solas' eyebrows rose.

"'_Alright?'_" he repeated in disbelief. Nimwen sighed heavily.

"If you really believe it to be that bad, that it is something you don't want me to know, then you don't have to tell me."

"I…I don't understand," he stammered.

"And neither do I, but it's alright. We all have secrets."

Solas was still so in shock, that the only thing he knew to do was to tighten his grip on her hands. He felt her fingers flex under his, and it brought him comfort.

"Tell me something, Solas," she said with a calmness that did not match her red, tear-stained face.

"Knowing what you know now, do you intend to leave once this Mordalwen mess has been dealt with?"

Solas let out a choked breath.

"No," said the mage, shaking his head.

"Why?"

"Because I see now how much of a fool I was," he wept.

"I thought I was sparing you pain, but I only made it worse. I was only sparing myself. I love you, I love you so much and I was stupid enough to believe I was being noble when in truth I was being a selfish coward."

The tears now ran down his own cheeks as his shoulders shook.

"I am destined to only cause you pain, and so I would rather be present so that I may know what I have done."

She looked at him with such sadness, removing a hand to cup his cheek.

"You bring me more than just pain, ma vhenan." Her thumb brushed against his pronounced cheekbone, disrupting the path of his tears.

"I thought you were no longer my love," he said, leaning into the touch. She shook her head gently as she started crying again.

"I didn't mean it, I was angry," she choked out.

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry, don't ever be sorry," said Solas, gathering her into his arms. Her chest spasmed with restrained weeps as she clung to him.

"I have never stopped loving you," she said, burying her face into his shoulder.

"Even with all the suffering I've endured, you have brought to me the greatest thing in my life."

He knew what that meant.

"What is she like?" he asked timidly. He hoped that the mention of her wouldn't ruin what they had going. Instead, he felt her smile against his neck.

"She is amazing," she sighed wistfully.

"She is smart for her age, always questioning things and wanting to explore. She loves playing in the garden and making messes."

Solas let out a broken laugh, his mind filling with images of a yellow haired child running amok through the gardens.

"And-and she is happy?" he asked desperately.

"She wants for not. She's been spoiled rotten and puts a smile on everyone's face. They call her _The_ _Princess_ _of_ _Skyhold_ you know,"

Solas smiled tearfully.

"She is beautiful," he said.

"I know," Nimwen replied. She pressed her head against his chest, and the elven man felt a part of him return. He pressed his nose to the top of her head, breathing in the minty smell of her hair and used his free hand to stroke the silky locks.

"I-I want to talk to her," he stammered.

"You will stay away from her."

Solas felt ice where there had once been warmth. The cocoon of comfort he's been enveloped in was pulled apart by the claws of reality. He pulled away and found that Nimwen now stared at him stoically.

"Wh-what?"

"Just because you've been forgiven for what you did to me does not mean you've been forgiven for what you've done to her."

Nimwen looked at him critically.

"Lori doesn't know what it's like to have a father, to _lose_ one. I don't want you popping into her life if you end up leaving again, and she finally feels what it's like to lose somebody."

"But I won't!" Solas swore.

"How do I know that?" Nimwen challenged.

"I want to know her, to be a part of her life," Solas pleaded.

"You said that you wanted to spend forever with me, and yet here we are."

The words like daggers made Solas flinch. He understood where she was coming from, but that doesn't mean it didn't still hurt.

"What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

Nimwen bit her lip, brow furrowed.

"You won't be proving it to me," she said. When the look of confusion passed over Solas' face, the Dalish woman explained.

"I am too biased. I _want_ to forgive you, and so I am not the proper person to judge you."

"I don't understand."

"Lori's birthday is in a few weeks, and in a few days Lori and I will be leaving for Val Royeaux. As her gift to Lori, Vivienne is having her personal tailor make her some new dresses, and so we will be in the city for at least two weeks. While we are away, you are to prove to everyone else that you are worthy of being in Lori's life, because if you think that you think that you've only wronged Lori and I than you are very much wrong, my friend. Everyone here, our friends, our colleagues, have been hurt by you. You will make amends with them, how you do that I don't know, nor do I care. Upon my return they will tell me what they think. If they see that you are worth it, than you will get to be a part of your daughter's life. Do you agree to these terms?"

"Yes," the elf immediately agreed. He would agree to anything if it meant redeeming himself.

"Good. And one more thing." She raised a finger.

"We will not be leaving for at least three days. During that time, if you talk to Lori, if you are so much as in the same room as her, you are gone. No more chances. No more us. Am. I. Clear?"

Solas swallowed. Those winter eyes burned him fiercer than any fire could. He was no match for them. He was a victim to the Lady of Winter.

"Yes." Solas poured his very essence into that single word. He felt raw, drained, like he had been on the rack for a hundred years. Some of the sternness in Nimwen's eyes faded, and she gazed upon the apostate with sympathy.

"Thank you," she said quietly. The Dalish woman's arms wrapped around his neck and his automatically went to her waist, bringing her warmth closer to him.

"I want this to work, Solas," she said shakily.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness," he choked, clinging to her like a lifeline.

"No. You don't," she said, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"But I'm giving it to you anyway, because I love you, Creator's damn it."

She pulled back and for the first time that day, Solas saw a smile grace her lips.

"Ma emma lath. Ma emma nehn. Ma emma vhenan, la tel'abelas."

Solas could not contain the emotions that fell down his cheeks. With a shuddering breath he pressed his forehead to hers, the feeling of having her near him almost overwhelming. They both took solace in the contact, trying to absorb the feeling of having the other close after three years of being apart. She still smelled of mint, he noted, as she had always adored the stuff; in her food, in her soap, dried into potpourri in her room, she always smelled of mint. He felt her breath ghost over his lips and could detect on her breath the tea that she loved but he disliked, but now it was the sweetest thing he'd known. His heart fluttered in his chest like a caged bird, and he longed to lean in, to feel her lips against his once more.

But as if hearing his thoughts, she retracted herself from his embrace. She was blushing as she shifted awkwardly where she stood.

"Y-your old quarters are ready for you," she stuttered.

"I uh-kept your things, they should all be how you left them."

With some disappointment, he realized that she was signalling the end of the conversation.

"I see. Thank you," he said quietly.

"I need to get Lori's things together for our trip." As she walked to the door she stopped as she passed by Solas.

"Please, don't make me regret this," she whispered.

"I live with many regrets, I shall not make you live with them," Solas murmured.

A gentle hand pressed against his cheek and guided his face to look at hers.

"Na abelas tel," she whispered. Do not be sorry.

"Ma melava halani dar revas," she added.

"Ar tu ma numin." Solas said, full of guilt. Nimwen looked at him intensely.

"Ma tu ar lath." she said lovingly.

"Ir abelas," Solas confessed. The Dalish woman nodded solemnly.

"Mala suledin nadas."

With that she left the elven apostate. Solas breathed heavily and looked up at the ceiling. A large weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but now a new one took its place. In the weeks to come, he would determine whether he was strong enough to carry the burden. His homecoming had been a mess, but he would see to it that his stay be one that was fruitful.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****HOLY SMOKES THAT WAS TENSE!**

**Seriously this was hard to write folks. I was trying to get all the emotions I felt was necessary into this fic, and I hope it sounds right.**

**Elvish Translations:**

"**Ma emma lath. Ma emma nehn. Ma emma vhenan, la tel'abelas.": "**_You are my love. You are my happiness. You are my heart, and I'm not sorry."_

"**Na abelas tel.": **_"Don't be sorry."_

"**Ma melava halani dar revas.":**_"You helped me to become free."_

"**Ar tu ma numin.": **_"I made you cry."_

"**Ma tu ar lath.": **_"You made me love."_

"**Ir abelas.": **_"I feel so much sorrow."_

"**Mala suledin nadas.": **_"And now you must endure."_

**FAVS FOLLOWS AND REVIEWS ARE MUCH LOVED! If you have any suggestions for how I can improve please let me know!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**** Y'ALL THOUGHT YOU HAD TO WAIT? GUESS AGAIN!**

**This chapter just came to me and it flowed really well. I also though, after some conversations with some of my readers, that a break from the angst could be useful. Plus, I felt it was about time we get to know a certain little elfling, as well as some other people *wiggles eyebrows mischievously***

**Shout outs to Smugget, hpggvm fan4ever, Flamewing80, wildfire1977, lucife56, and everyone else who has been supporting this story, y'all rock!**

**Any who, on with the story! **

Lorien stared into the glass jar, transfixed.

"It's so big," she gasped, her eyes following the slow movements of the creature tucked away inside the container. The caterpillar was a plump little thing, a bright green colour and bumpy like a pickle. It was curled around a small stick perfectly angled inside the jar to provide a nice resting spot, and there were leaves and grass in the jar as well.

"Glad you like him," said Scout Harding. The dwarf woman grinned when the child pressed her cheek up against the jar to get a closer look at the insect.

"Can I keep him?" the elf girl asked.

"Of course you can," said Harding, repeating what she said every time she brought the girl back a bug. The elven child squealed happily and hugged the jar to her tiny chest. Josephine, who was standing over the girl, chuckled fondly.

"What do you say to Miss Harding?" Josephine asked in a mother's voice. Lori perked up, having remembered her manners. She set the jar carefully down on the ground and wrapped her thin arms around the dwarf's waist.

"Thank you Miss Harding," she said sweetly. The scout made a noise of delight and returned the hug. Lori quickly returned back to her jar and began talking to the insect inside.

"I will never understand her fascination with the things," Josephine told the scout. Harding shrugged.

"Neither do I, but hey, it gives me and the boys something to do while doing surveys. They always compete to see who can find the best one to bring her."

She laughed.

"One of the scouts nearly fell out a tree trying to nab that caterpillar."

"Oh my," said Josephine.

"Yes well, anything for the _Princess_," Harding remarked with a smirk.

Josephine looked down at Lori, a smile spreading on her lips. Like how her mother could instil loyalty and pride among her followers, Lorien had a way of bringing amusement and happiness to everyone she met. The people of Skyhold adored their leader's daughter, and she was a princess in all but name. Some would say that the child was spoiled, and they would be right, but that was just the effect the little girl had on people: she made people want to be kind to her. It also didn't hurt that the sight of their leader interacting with her child made the people of Skyhold see the Inquisitor as more than just an imposing figurehead. To see her in the role of a loving parent, a role many members of the Inquisition played as well, made her seem more approachable, relatable, and as a result made her followers all the more devoted to her. Josephine felt something tug on her skirt, and she looked down and saw Lori staring up at her.

"Aunt Josie, Aunt Josie, I wanna show Parsey!" she said, waving the jar in front of the Ambassador. Josephine knelt down in front of the girl, and put on the voice that every adult seemed to use whenever they talked to children.

"Alright sweetie, let's go see if we can find him," the Antivan said, taking hold of the elf girl's hand. After the fiasco in the war room, the Ambassador vowed not to let the girl out of her sight.

"I think I saw him with Krem behind the tavern, near the training dummies," Harding said.

"Thank you, Miss Harding," said Josephine. With the toddler in tow, the purple and gold clad woman made the walk to the back side of the tavern. Just as Harding said, over by the training dummies were two familiar faces playfully swinging wooden swords at each other. Like a rogue, Lori managed to sneak out of Josephine's grasp and started running towards the them. Lori ignored the sound of her aunt Josie yelling for her to stop, focused more on running as fast as her short legs could carry her.

"Parsey!" Lori yelled.

"Lori!" The shorter of the two males dropped his stick and caught the elf girl as she leapt in for a hug. Josephine shook her head fondly at the scene. The two had just seen each other at breakfast, and yet they acted like this was a grand reunion.

Lorien felt her feet leave the ground as Parsey lifted her into his arms, and she laughed at the feeling of weightlessness as he spun her around. The Qunari boy was her best friend and was also the closest person to her in age in the keep; even though was two years older than her. Despite being only five, he was already a big boy, and her mama said that's because Qunari get big really fast and stay big, like her Uncle Bull.

Parsey was a head taller than her, and he was a lot stockier than the thin little girl, which made him look even bigger and older. He had short, dark brown woolly hair that puffed up like sheep fur, and reddish tan skin tinted grey like most Qunari. At the top of his forehead were two large bumps, where in time two horns would come to grow.

Parsey set her down and Lori immediately showed him her new creature.

"Lookit Parsey, lookit!"

"Wow," Parsey said, his brown calf eyes lighting up in wonder.

"Miss Harding got it for me," Lori said, tapping the glass and causing the bug to wiggle.

"Can I thee?" asked Parsey.

"Sure!" Lori handed the Qunari boy the jar, and he brought it up to his face to get a better look at the caterpillar. As the two children fussed over the insect, Josephine went to stand beside Krem.

"How are you, lieutenant Aclassi?" she asked.

"Alright, Lady Josephine," answered Krem.

"Parsey has been asking me to help him with his sword lessons, since the Chief's been busy."

"He's certainly good for his age," said Josephine.

"He'll be kicking his dad's ass in no time," laughed the Tevinter.

"Which one?" joked the ambassador.

Krem smirked.

"Both."

Parsnip came to the Inquisition a few months after their defeat of Coryphaeus. During a mission to the Storm Coast, the Chargers were ambushed by a group of Tal Vashoth bandits. After a gruelling fight that ended with all the bandits dead, Iron Bull and his men searched the Tal Vashoth camp to see if there was anything of value. Little did they know that they would end up finding a two year old Qunari boy hiding behind a stack of crates.

Refusing to leave the newly orphaned child to fend for himself, the Iron Bull insisted they take the boy back to Skyhold. While they debated what to do with the child, the Qunari boy refused to leave Iron Bull's side, clinging to him and seeking comfort from the elder Qunari. During this time he remained totally silent, not speaking a word, even to Bull. To everyone's surprise, it was _Dorian_ who managed to get the child to open up. The first thing he said was his name, Parsnip. This was also when Iron Bull began to suspect that the child was not a full Qunari. Despite being bigger than the average two-year old, he was still small for a Qunari, and his features were softer as well. There had been a human woman amongst the bandits that ambushed the Chargers, and it was assumed that she had been the boy's mother.

While trying to determine what was to be done with the Qunari boy, Dorian and Iron Bull took it upon themselves to watch the lad. Despite themselves, the couple began to grow fond of the little boy, and it was Iron Bull who approached his lover with the idea of keeping the child. To his shock, Dorian was all for it. The Tevinter had always wanted children, but had given up the idea since he was unable to produce a child. At the thought of being able to keep this sweet little boy he had grown to adore over the past few weeks, the Altus was overjoyed. It was honestly quite fitting; who better to raise a half Qunari-half human than a human and Qunari couple?

Now three years later, Parsnip, or Parsey, had grown into a happy little boy, who's loved playing with stick-swords, and his best friend Lori.

"Your birthday ith coming thoon," said Parsey.

"Uh-huh, Imma be this many," Lori replied, proudly putting up three little fingers.

"You're gonna get loths of prethents," the Qunari said. Lori grinned.

"Yeah, a whole mountain of them!" she said, stretching out her arms to represent this fabled mountain of gifts. Parsey pouted.

"Wish I could get loths of prethents," he mumbled. Lori immediately looked at her friend with sympathy.

"Hey, it's okay Parsey, I'll share 'em with you."

The little boy looked up, eyes bright.

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Lori giggled.

Parsey grinned, and lifted up the jar with the caterpillar.

"Wanna put him in the gardenth?" he asked.

"Sure!" Lori ran over to Josephine who was still chatting with Krem.

"Aunt Josie, me and Parsey wanna put my 'pillar in the garden. Can we go?" the elf girl asked.

"Well, let's see if Parsey can come with us." The Antivan looked at Krem.

"Is it alright if she borrows him?"

The Tevinter chuckled.

"Go ahead, I'm in need of a drink anyway," he said.

"I'll just tell the Chief he's with you if he asks," he added.

"Alright then. Good day, lieutenant."

"And to you to, Lady Josephine."

As Krem left to go inside the tavern, Josephine turned to the children.

"Okay, let's go to the gardens. But stay with me." That last part was directed specifically to a certain little girl.

Despite this, the two children immediately began to run to the stairs of the main hall, with the Ambassador shouting for them to wait for her, and swearing to herself in Antivan. After managing to wrangle in the kids, a feat more challenging than nuggalope taming, and catching her breath, the three of them made the walk into the courtyard of Skyhold's gardens. The courtyard had a handful of people in it, mostly those on break and the resident gardeners, and the sun shined cheerfully on the botanical wonder. Josephine took a seat on one of the stone benches lining the walls and watched as Lori and Parsey set off looking for a place to release the caterpillar. So long as they remained in her sight, and out of trouble, Josephine would allow them to play without her breathing down their necks.

"How are you today, Lady Montilyet?"

Josephine looked up and saw the aging face of Mother Gisele looking down at her.

"I am doing fine, Mother. Though I have been put on babysitting duty," she said jokingly, pointing to the two kids playing in the grass. The Revered Mother looked at the children with gentle fondness.

"They are getting be a handful," her accented voice commented.

"Parsey is not the problem, It's Lori for the most part," Josephine sighed.

"I swear that girl is as wild as a fennic, and twice as fast."

Mother Gisele hummed in agreement.

"I heard about what happened earlier."

Josephine winced.

"It was my fault, I took my eyes off of her for _one_ second and-"

"Do not blame yourself," said the priestess. Giselle took a seat beside the ambassador, smoothing out the fabric of her red and white robes.

"We cannot pretend that a confrontation would not have happened eventually," The Mother said.

The Antivan woman groaned.

"But not at _that _time," she said, head in her hands.

"I cannot imagine what the Inquisitor must be feeling, for him to come back after all this time, and with Lori caught in the mix. If she does not break something, or somebody, I will be amazed."

"Which is why we must keep an eye on her," Giselle said to her.

"We must be there for her in her time of need, whether she knows it or not."

"You're right," agreed Josephine. She looked at Lori who, with the help of Parsey, was trying to coax the caterpillar out of the jar and onto a bush.

"I can't imagine what's going to happen to Lori when she finds out," Josephine said sadly. Mother Gisele saw the concern lining the face of the ambassador, and placed a withered hand atop of hers.

"The young are strong," she reminded the Ambassador.

"I'm sure that however this turns out, she will be fine."

Josephine sighed.

"I hope so," she said.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the two women, Lori was glancing over at Josephine, seeing that she looked sad.

"Parsey?"

"Yeah?" replied the Qunari.

"What's wrong with Aunt Josie?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking at the Antivan woman.

"She looks sad," Lori said worriedly.

"Do you think something's wrong?"

"I don't know," Parsey said quietly.

"Mama was sad earlier too," Lori added.

"I went into her fancy room and she got upset."

"Why?" Parsey asked.

"Dunno," Lori shrugged.

"There was this man in the room too. He was weird."

"How wath he weird?"

"He was an elf, like me! But I've never seen him before. He looked at me funny, too."

"How'd he look at you funny?"

"Like...'member when aunt Sera hid a nug in Uncle Cullen's desk and he made that funny face?"

Parsey giggled.

"Yeah, he wath tho thurprised."

"Mhm! And that man looked at me like I was a nug!"

Lori crossed her arms. She put on her "thinking face" and stroked the top of her lip like uncle Dorian did when he was thinking about important things.

"But I'm not a nug," she mused.

"So why was he lookin' at me funny like I'm a nug in a desk? It makes no sense!"

The Qunari boy scrunched his face up in confusion.

"That ith weird," he agreed. Lori nodded. She ceased her faux-moustache stroking and turned her attention back to the caterpillar.

"C'mon Clyde! Look at the branch, you know you want to play on it," she cooed, trying to convince the green insect to inch onto the branch. She could have just tipped the jar and made the caterpillar fall out, but she thought that was mean and she didn't like being mean to her bugs. They were after all, very sensitive beings, according to her.

"Why'd you name him Clyde?" Parsey asked.

Lori rolled her eyes.

"'Cuz he looks like a Clyde!" she declared as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The children fell into silence as they watched the newly dubbed Clyde slowly work his way out of the jar and onto the branch.

"Yay!" Lori cheered.

"Now he can be friends with everyone else!"

"Yeah," agreed Parsey. The Qunari boy was startled when a clump of dirt was suddenly smashed onto the top of his head.

"Hey!" the boy whipped around and found the elven girl laughing, hands covered with dirt.

"Gotcha," she giggled. Parsey tried clawing the dirt out of his hair, but it had become lost in his fuzzy hair. He scowled and scooped up a handful of dirt, and then proceeded to smear it all over Lori's dress. Her jaw dropped in a scandalized expression, but then her face turned to a look a determination as she took the leftover clumps from her dress and splattered them across Parsey's shirt. The two friends fell into wild laughter as they started chasing each other around the garden throwing dirt at each other, until they were told by Josephine to stop.

Lori pouted and crossed arms.

"But we were having fun," she said. Her dress now had large brown stains on them, and her long yellow hair had clumps of dirt hanging from it.

"Lori you and Parsey have to stop throwing dirt," Josephine said. Lori's eyes narrowed.

"I don't wanna," she said.

"Lori you can't tear up the garden."

"But we were playing," she whined. Josephine breathed in, keeping her composure.

"Lori I said you can't tear up the garden and what I say goes," she said firmly.

The elven child stomped her foot on the ground and let out a keening noise.

"But we were having fun!" she whined loudly.

Josephine was suddenly taken back to a childhood of screaming siblings, temper tantrums, and her being the only level-headed child around. Before things could get out of hand, a saving grace came in the form of Parsey.

"Hey Lori," the boy said, putting a hand on the younger girl's shoulder.

"It'th okay, why don't we play thomething elthe," the Qunari offered. When the elven girl continued to pout, Parsey got an idea.

"Hey, you wanna play thwordth? Uncle Krem wath teaching me thome new thtuff!" Parsey suggested.

When Lori smiled in agreement, remnants of her tantrum suddenly gone, Josephine felt undying gratitude for the Qunari boy.

"Okay! Aunt Josie, can we play swords?" Lori asked.

"Well I don't see why not," Josephine said enthusiastically.

As the trio starting walking back to where they first started, Lori saw two ravens resting on the branches of a tree. She's always liked aunt Lilly's birds, even though mama had always warned her not to play with them, because they weren't like the little robins and swallows that liked to fly around the keep. These were dangerous birds. Lori didn't like the room where all the birds slept, it was dark and high up, and the ravens' loud squawks scared her, but she liked seeing them around the keep.

Suddenly the two birds took flight, and Lori watched as they soared high into the sky. As her eyes followed the birds as they flew over the wall, Lori saw something strange. She could have sworn that the weird man from her mama's fancy room was standing on top of the walls. She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him curiously. She turned her head when she thought that Aunt Josie said something to her, and when she looked back the man was gone.

This puzzled the little girl, and she was going to ask Aunt Josie about it, but Parsey began telling her about how his papa slew a dragon, and the elven child's mind quickly forgot about that man on the wall.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**** WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM TO BRING YOU BABBIES!**

**I had a lot of fun writing for Lori. I take a lot of my inspiration from her from my own experiences with kids her age, namely my own cousin's kids, who are a barrel of laughs. As well we get to meet Parsnip! I felt like Lori needed a friend, and since I adore Doribull so much, I thought it would be cool if they had a kid. I hope that the story behind Parsey is believable, because obviously Dorian and Iron Bull can't have a kid of their own, but I really wanted there to be a Qunari/human and that was the best explanation I could give. **

**Also, for those of you confused by some of Parsey's dialogue, no those aren't typos, he has a lisp and it is addressed later, so just FYI. I try to type it as best as I can, but just to be clear he can't pronounce 'S' sounds very well. Kinda like Sollux from Homestuck. I actually got a lot of inspiration on how to write Parsey's lisp from the fic "Because of Books" which is an Erisol fic where the author perfectly masters how to write Sollux's lisp, so if you love Erisol and well written fanfics, check it out, it's one of the best fics I've ever read.**

**Anyway favs, follows, and reviews are love. **

**Stay tuned for the next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AUTHOR'S NOTE****: SCHOOL IS JACKIN MY STYLE!**

**Seriously school is driving me nuts. But to be fair I think I've been handling it fairly well, guess who pumped out a three and a half page English essay in the span of one study hall (This gal~)**

** But aside from that, I've been having fun with this fic and hope to make more effort to work on it. My problem is that I have other fics I want to work on but lack the muse for, so my time is somewhat divided :0( BUT! I will troop on and keep giving you guys the chapters you've been asking for.**

**SHOUT OUTS ****to: kali yugah, ThisIsHope, Eponinemx, Mandimal, Sydil91, Word of War, alethalruby, Nani-1-9-5, Lexibarnett, WissaMonster, LovinAllThingsAnimated326, Aviva636, zer0angel83, Mystical Authoress, TimeGhost823, Silenti Aspicientis, Asilyessam, Spacegoodra, as well as everyone who has been faving and following, you guys rock!**

**Any who, on with the story!**

* * *

Solas didn't mean to break the rules so soon. He had just been getting some air, something well deserved after the stifling conditions of the war room. He slipped out of the great hall trying his best to avoid anyone and decided to take a stroll along the secluded ramparts by the gardens, as they had always been a favourite spot of his to clear his thoughts. He'd been leaning against the stone wall, enjoying the peace and quiet, when it happened. When he heard the sound of rambunctious laughter he became curious, and peered down into the garden to see what all the fuss was about. The second he saw who it was he panicked, and quickly ducked behind one of the guard towers. Tinkling laughter wafted up the grounds below, background music to the drum solo that was his thudding heart.

He knew he should have left, should have slipped away before he was scene. That was what a logical elf would have done. However in this moment, contrary to his vast intellect, years of life experience, and his rational nature, Solas was not being a logical elf. Despite his better judgment, the mage peered over the side of the wall to the courtyard below.

There she was.

In the company of what looked like a young Qunari, something he would ponder later, his daughter was playing amongst the bushes, talking with rapid enthusiasm to her playmate. The sunlight shined on her head making her yellow hair glow golden. Though he was too far away to tell what she was saying, the glee in her voice was unmistakable. Solas saw her suddenly ambush the Qunari boy with dirt to his head, and the mage couldn't help but smile to himself as she cackled mischievously. He watched as the children engaged in a dirt fight, his eyes following them as they chased each other around the gardens flinging clumps of dirt at each other, until they were finally stopped by an intervening Josephine. Solas saw Lori begin to grow upset and on the verge of a temper tantrum, until the Qunari boy seemed to calm her. Instantly her expression changed and she was back to a smiling, happy little girl.

It appeared Josephine wished for them to leave, and took Lori's hand as she escorted her and the Qunari boy from the gardens. A twinge of jealousy struck Solas' gut at the sight of the ambassador and his child together. He was unable to see his daughter, unable to let her know of his existence, and yet the Antivan woman, to whom Lori shared no blood, was allowed to watch over her, to hold her hand, to talk to her. Frustration knotted in his gut like a gnarled root. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even realize he'd stopped trying to remain hidden, until he found his cover blown. When he finally came to his senses he realized that Lori was looking directly at him. He froze, like a deer spotting the hunter. Even from this distance, he could see the elven girl's blue eyes staring right at him. She tilted her head to the side, curiosity in her gaze. He could not tell if she recognized him from the war room, or if she was trying to figure out who he was. While he felt dread knowing he so quickly broke his vhenan's one rule, he also felt happiness at merely holding the gaze what he now knew was his, and that she saw him. The moment the child's eyes turned to Josephine Solas bolted. He rushed down the rampart and flew through the nearest door. Slamming the wooden door shut behind him Solas panted, letting out a sigh of relief. That was close, _much_ too close.

He had gone unseen by anyone else, as far as he knew, and hopefully the folly of a young mind would allow Lori's sighting of him to flutter from her thoughts like leaves in autumn. Beside him was a narrow window, and he could not help but peer through. The small form of his daughter disappeared into the shadows of the outdoor corridor, hand in hand with Josephine.

Once again he felt the tendrils of jealousy lapping at his mind. This envy was snuffed out though, by the realization that she had probably done more for Lori as a caregiver than he had. For the past three years she had no doubt been around to help raise her, to watch her, to teach her, to listen and help her when she was in need. Solas had never even spoken to her. She knew nothing of him, and blood was the only claim he had to the little girl. He pressed his forehead against the window pane, staring wistfully out the opaque glass. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The window was warmed by the sunlight, and the glass radiated a gentle heat that felt soothing on his eyelids.

He would need more than blood to prove himself a proper parent, he thought to himself. He would do whatever it took to redeem himself, and that started by confronting those others he had wronged.

A task that was easier said than done.

* * *

"What am I to do?" Nimwen groaned. Because she had her head bowed in her hand, she could only hear the sound of the pouring liquid.

"Well I don't know about you, but I believe that right now you can start by having another glass," came the sound of Dorian's ever charming voice. Nimwen could practically hear the good-natured smirk no doubt on the Tevinter's mouth, and when she felt the wine glass brush her hand, she took it gladly.

"I don't know how much wine is going to fix," Nimwen lamented, even as she took a large sip of the red drink.

"Like I said, it's a start," Dorian joked, trying to pry a smile out of the Dalish woman.

The two mages sat on the plush couch in the Inquisitor's private quarters. A fire flickered lazily in the stone hearth, and the table in front of them bore both a bottle of wine and an array of sweets, courtesy of Dorian. It was not the first time the Tevinter mage had arrived at her room unannounced with drink, sweets and the promise of a listening ear, and Nimwen welcomed his intrusions gladly. When she first came to the Inquisition, the elven girl had grown an obsession with the newly discovered wonders of human sweets, an obsession Dorian discovered and indulged. Out of everyone in her Inner Circle, it was Dorian that Nimwen confided in the most. When they first met, the elven woman had actually developed a bit of an infatuation with the Altus; his charming air and flirtatious quips drew her like a moth to a flame, and it didn't hurt that she found him handsome. Of course upon discovering his preference for men while trying to help him make amends with his father, Nimwen had been disappointed to say the least. However, from those ashes sparked a close friendship between the two, in which they felt comfortable enough to talk about anything that came to mind without fear of judgment or ridicule; malicious ridicule at least, as they both took every opportunity to tease the other. But of course along with passing quips between each other, they also knew just what to do when the other needed sympathy.

Nimwen sighed as she set down her glass, now half empty.

"You're going to make a drunk out of me, Lord Pavus," she said.

"_I_ am, or is it a certain hobo apostate?" Dorian challenged.

The elf rolled her eyes.

"Both of you," she retorted, sending a smirk his way. The smile fell as quickly as it was formed, and she let out a heavy sigh. Dorian knew that there was much she needed to let out.

"Care to share with the class?" he asked, refilling his own beverage.

"I just...I always held out hope that one day he'd come back," Nimwen began. "but now that's it's happened…" she stared down at her wine glass. "It's just...what do I _do_ Dorian?" She looked up at the man sorrowfully, as if he held all the answers. "I didn't think it'd be like this."

"Like what?" inquired the Altus. She threw her arms up in exasperation.

"So painful!"

In that moment she had forgotten the glass in her hand, and ended up spilling wine onto the rug.

"By the Dread Wolf," she cursed as she bent down to dab up the red splotch on the expensive rug.

"I think the carpet can wait, love" Dorian said, taking her by the shoulders and guiding her back to the couch.

"I need to stop it from staining," Nimwen insisted,

"What you need is to talk to me before you freeze the next unfortunate serving boy who crosses you."

Nimwen glared, reached for her wine glass, and downed the rest of the drink in one go. She slammed the glass down on the table and leaned back until her head rested against the top of the couch back.

"I am so happy he's back, but I'm still so angry, and I don't want to be," she vented. "I want to just forgive him and go back to how it was, but I still can't get over what he did! He _left_ me Dorian. He left me without a goodbye, and left me with child. Granted, I know he didn't realize _that _part at the time, nor do I regret having Lori-by the Creator's she's the only good thing to come out of this, but still he left me and didn't even tell me why or where. And now he's back. But did he come back just for me? Because he felt bad and wanted to make amends? Oh goodness no, because that would be _far_ too much to ask of him! Oh no, the only reason he came back is because of some stupid madwoman and her elven artefacts. It's just too much Dorian and-and now Lori's involved and I don't w-want her to get hurt, b-but I'm k-keeping him from her and that's basically lying and…"

When the threat of tears came, she slumped against Dorian's shoulder with a defeated whine. The Tevinter said nothing, and responded by wrapping an arm around her trembling shoulders. When he heard sniffles he gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze and let her cry. Any other time he would joke about her tears leaving a mark on his sleeve, but now was not the time. It pained him to see the normally strong and collected Inquisitor so broken, and wanted to do his best to mend the situation.

"There, there my dear, it will be alright," he whispered, rubbing her shoulder supportively.

"I'm scared Dorian," Nimwen said timidly. "I have the chance for us all to be a family, but I'm also risking Lori getting hurt, and myself for that matter. And-and what's going to happen down the road? What if-"

"Slow down, Nimwen," Dorian insisted. He turned her to face him and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. "You are getting far ahead of yourself. All of this happened in one day, and that definitely did not help what is already an overwhelming situation. You just need to relax and take this one step at a time. Let the future stay in the future and worry about the problems of the present."

Nimwen reached for one of the cookies on the coffee table, hoping sugar could lessen her pain.

"I just wish it could be like in my dreams," she said over a mouthful of cookie. "There, he just comes back and everything is perfect: no anger, no worry, just us happy and leaving everything in the past and skipping off into the sunset."

"I can't quite picture Solas as the skipping type," Dorian deadpanned.

Nimwen snorted.

"No, I suppose he isn't," she said bitterly. "And I suppose I can't just pretend the past three years never happened, because they _did _happen."

"I agree," said Dorian. "It's foolish to think the answer is to just ignore the druffalo in the room. That would be like having a man come up and stab you and responding by saying, _'I know, I'll just pretend like I was never stabbed in the first place, that'll fix it!'_ and then you're dead in an alley hours later with some urchin picking through your pockets. You have to treat these things, deal with them or else they'll fester, but you also can't dwell on them forever, or else you'll never be able to get past them._ You're _the one who taught me that."

"You make it sound easy," Nimwen mumbled.

"Yes well, everything sounds good when I say it."

That managed to get a little smile out of her. She stood up and went over to her bed, flopping down on her comforter in a swan dive. Dorian chuckled as she rolled over so that she now lay on her back.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Thinking."

"And you'll think better on your bed."

"…yes."

"Ah well that solves that then."

There was a silence that followed, with the Inquisitor quietly lying on her bed as Dorian enjoyed an Orleasian tart. After a while Nimwen finally broke the silence.

"Dorian, do you think I did the right thing?" she asked, still staring up at the ceiling.

Dorian rose from his own seat and waltzed over to the bed.

"What, making your lover redeem himself by kissing the asses of half the Inquisition? Of course. He should work a little before he's back in you good graces again."

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking down in amusement at the parallel Inquisitor.

"And what about you? Are you going to forgive him?" she asked.

"To be honest, I already have, for the most part," he admitted. When she looked at him in confusion, the Altus proceeded to explain. "Not that I don't hold what he did against him, but after you told me about what happened after we left the war room, I don't think there's anything else I require of him."

"Really? There's nothing you think he needs to do to mend between you two?" she asked.

"Whatever feelings _I_ felt about his disappearance aren't important," said Dorian. "He hurt _you_, and you proceeded to let him have it so hard I'm surprised he doesn't need medical treatment. So long as you feel satisfied I have no qualms with him."

Nimwen gestured at him with her hand and he complied, joining her in lying down on the bed. They lay side by side, staring up at the high ceiling of her quarters. They shifted so that the Dalish woman's head rested comfortably on Dorian's chest.

"What am I doing, Dorian?" Nimwen sighed.

"What you think is best for Lori and yourself," the Tevinter replied coolly.

"Oh Lori," Nimwen groaned. "Out of all of this madness, the hardest thing is how I'm going to explain this all to Lori."

"I imagine it's not exactly breakfast conversation," Dorian mused.

Nimwen chuckled.

"Oh yes I can just imagine it, _'Hi sweetie how are you? Oh, and by the way your daddy who's been gone for three years is suddenly back again would you like a sweet roll?'_"

Dorian let out a laugh, and patted the top of the elf's head like she were a puppy.

"Oh Nimwen if anyone could make that work, it would be you," he said.

Nimwen harrumphed and batted his hand away.

"You try being in my shoes for a minute mister! It's hard, deliberately keeping things from your child."

"I don't have to put myself in your shoes to know the feeling."

Nimwen turned to Dorian, humour gone from her face.

"You still haven't told him, have you?" she asked.

Dorian sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"No," he said blankly.

"Do you and Bull plan on ever telling him?"

"And how do you propose we go about telling him, hmm? If there's a proper way to explain to your son that you killed his parents and technically kidnapped him, I'd love to hear it."

"You didn't mean to kill them, they attacked Bull and his men first," Nimwen reminded him.

"Doesn't mean we still didn't make him an orphan," Dorian mumbled glumly.

"Does he remember them, his old parents?" Nimwen asked.

"I doubt he remembers anything, though if he does he hasn't said so. He was only two when we took him in."

"Has he ever asked about where he came from?"

"No. He's never brought it up. I'm not even sure if it's ever occurred to him that we aren't his real parents, that a child can't come from two men. Children seem to be oblivious to little details like that."

"That's because you and Bull_ are_ his real parents," Nimwen said with a jab to his side. "And I don't want you, Parsey, or Bull to ever forget that."

"I know, I know, but still. The issue of how we got him is going to come up eventually…"

Dorian sat up, Nimwen following. The Tevinter mage hunched over, rubbing his temples with his knuckles.

"Bull thinks we should go ahead and tell him outright, but...I'm not so sure. I know what it's like to have your view of your parent suddenly change. There's nothing worse than realizing your parents are not what you believed they were, and I'll die before putting Parsey through that. But I'm also afraid of what keeping it from him will do. I feel that either way I have a high chance of my son ending up hating me."

"Dorian." Nimwen touched his arm. "Look at me," she said gently.

The Altus turned his head, his grey eyes meeting her blue ones. His usually jovial gaze was stained with pain and worry.

"I think that since he's yet to ask about it, that you shouldn't go and tell him out of the blue. That will only open wounds that aren't ready to be addressed yet. Better to let him be unburdened by this for as long as possible. However, when the time comes when he does ask you or Bull about it, you need to be honest with him. No matter what happens, it will be better than him finding out you lied, or from him learning the truth elsewhere."

This was what Nimwen good at. She hated being the victim. Helping others, that's what she was better good at. She was quiet as Dorian seemed to consider this.

"It's…better than nothing."

The Altus sighed. "I suppose it's the best thing for now," he finally said.

"I'm glad I could help, and if you ever need to talk, I'm here for you," Nimwen said.

Dorian began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

Her fellow mage held a hand over his mouth to try and stifle his laughter.

"It just that...remember when we first met? When we were stranded in time together by Alexius? Could imagine back then that in just three years we would be close as kin, getting drunk in the bedroom of your castle, as we lamented the struggles of parenthood?"

Nimwen giggled, shaking her head.

"No, I don't think I could have," she said with the biggest smile she'd had in a while.

"Ah how times change," Dorian sighed nostalgically.

"Just a few years ago I was a proud bachelor in Minrathous, attending parties, having flings on whims, and avoiding unwanted betrothals. Now I'm a proud member of the Inquisition, the father of a darling half Qunari boy, and the unfortunate lover of a giant lummox of a Qunari. Life's funny that way."

"What about me?" Nimwen joked.

"I was barely an adult, spending my days sleeping outdoors, eating whatever the clan could scrounge up, and my biggest concerns were being harassed by shems and hoping I would be able to take over as Keeper when the time came. And now,"

She gestured to her large room.

"I'm only twenty-two living in a humongous castle, sleeping on a bed worth more than my entire clan's possessions, eating fancy cakes from Orlais and drinking Antivan wine, all because and I'm the leader of a Thedas-wide organization, the focus of a horde of devout followers, and the one who stopped an ancient darkspawn-magister who tried to become God. Oh, and I'm also a mother dealing with my lover's sudden reappearance."

Dorian whistled.

"Alright, you win."

Nimwen smirked. "Damn right I won."

"Such language!" Dorian gasped sarcastically, holding his chest and feigning scandal. Nimwen snorted and grabbed his shoulder.

"Blame the Antivan wine," she giggled, hanging onto him for support.

A knock on the door caught their attention.

"Who is it?" Nimwen called out.

"M-mama?" At the sound of her daughter's voice, Nimwen immediately jumped from her bed, her blue nightgown swishing around her. She opened the door and saw Lori staring up at her, clad only in her light pink nightgown and clutching her stuffed nug toy.

"What's wrong sweetie?" Nimwen asked, kneeling down in front of her daughter. The little elven girl clutched her stuffed animal close.

"Can't sleep," she mumbled into the toy nug's snout.

"Oh come here, dalen," Nimwen said, gathering the little girl into her arms. She carried the child on her hip as she smoothed some of her long yellow hair out of her face. Lori perked up when she saw the Tevinter man still sitting on the bed.

"Uncle Dorian?" she said.

"Hello there, darling," he smiled. "What's wrong?"

"She can't sleep," Nimwen answered for her.

"Oh really?" Dorian bent down to look the elf child in the eye. "Well that's no good now is it?"

"Uh-uh," Lori said with a shake of her head.

"I have no idea how you're not tired after all that running around you did," Nimwen sighed as she sat down with Lori on the bed. The little girl shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, and don't think I didn't hear about what happened in the gardens."

Lori whipped her head to look at her mother with wide eyes.

"How'd you know?" she gasped.

"Aunt Josie told me."

Lori frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Aunt Josie's a tattle," she grumbled.

"Aunt Josie is a good girl, unlike someone I know."

Lori slumped. "'m sorry," she pouted.

"I know that dalen, but you need to remember not to mess up the gardens when you and Parsey play. The gardeners love that you and Parsey like to play there, but they don't like when you two tear things up after they've worked so hard to make it pretty."

"Okay mama," the child conceded.

"Oh and by the way darling, if you could avoid putting more things in Parsey's hair, that would be wonderful," Dorian chimed in.

Nimwen chuckled.

"You had to deal with the dirt as well?" she asked.

"How he got so much dirt in his hair amazes me, it was right down to the roots," Dorian sighed. "The honey was the worst part."

"Honey?" Nimwen looked at Lori.

"You put _honey_ in Parsey's hair?"

Lori shrunk sheepishly.

"Yeah," she admitted.

Nimwen shook her head.

"Where did you get honey?" she asked tiredly. Lori played with the hem of her nightgown.

"Aunt Sera made us cookies."

"Of course it was Sera," Nimwen sighed.

"It took forever to get out of Parsey's hair," Dorian said. "His hair is so coarse, it is almost impossible to clean it when something gets stuck in it. Bull wanted me to just shave it all off to _'save us time.'_"

"And let me guess, you refused?"

"I had half a mind to smack that lummox! I refuse to let him make our son bald like him when he has such lovely hair."

"You just complained about taking care of his hair."

"When there are _things _in it. Otherwise he has wonderful hair, which I refuse to allow Bull to mutilate."

Nimwen rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her daughter.

"Alright Lori, what do you want to help you go to sleep?"

Lori snuggled closer to her mother's chest.

"Can you tell me another story?" she asked sweetly.

The Dalish woman smiled.

"Alright, let me grab my robe." Nimwen stood up and walked over to her wardrobe leaving Lori on the bed with Dorian. The mage looked down when he felt a little finger poking him.

"Yes?" he asked. Lori pointed to the sweets on the coffee table.

"Can I have one?" she whispered.

Dorian knew that sugar was the last thing she needed, especially when she was trying to go to sleep. He looked over his shoulder and saw the Inquisitor still looking for her dressing gown.

Discreetly he used his magic to make one of the cookies float into his hand.

"Eat it quickly," he said with a conspiratorial grin. The elven child stuffed the treat into her mouth and looked like a chipmunk as she chewed.

"Now you'd better go to sleep okay?"

"Mmm-hmm," Lori nodded.

"And you didn't get that from me, right?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"What are you two talking about?"

The two accomplices jerked their heads at the voice of the approaching Inquisitor. Dorian saw that Lori had already swallowed her cookie.

"Oh nothing," the Tevinter lied as he tried signalling to Lori to wipe the crumbs from her mouth. Wrapped in her blue silk robe, Nimwen picked up the younger elf, who by now had destroyed the evidence.

"I highly doubt that," she smirked to her friend.

"Alright Lori, time to go back to bed."

"You're gonna tell a story right?" Lori asked.

"Of course," Nimwen said as she carried the girl to the door.

"I suppose I should be taking my leave then," said Dorian as he rose from the bed.

"Alright, and thank you, Dorian."

"Anytime, love," Dorian said, patting his fellow mage on the shoulder.

"Night-night uncle Dorian," Lori said with a yawn. The Altus patted the girl's yellow head.

"Sweet dreams darling," he replied. Nimwen waited for Dorian to walk through the door and followed him out, but while Dorian walked to the exit, she turned right and down the steps that led to Lori's room.

"Can you tell me the one 'bout the swamp horse?" Lori asked.

"Sure thing dalen," Nimwen responded. Lori grinned and nuzzled her cheek against her mother's.

"Lori...why does your breath smell like chocolate?"

"Um..."

"Does Uncle Dorian know?"

"..."

"Did uncle Dorian give you a sweet?"

"…uh-huh."

"And did he tell you not to tell me that he gave you one?"

"…yeah."

"That's what I thought."

,

,

,

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE****: YAY MORE FLUFF!**

**Another chapter with fluffy feels regarding our beloved baby elf, but also with some drama with mama. I really liked writing this chapter mainly for the interaction between Nimwen and Dorian. Aside from Solas (of course!) during my play through I felt like the person Nim grew closest to was Dorian. I really enjoyed their friendship and I feel like they were each other's closest friends. Regarding them cuddling in the same bed, once again I feel like they are the type of friends who can show affection for each other like that and still be platonic, and as they say, the best of friends are the ones people mistake for gay! (Or in this case straight X3)**

** Oki doki so next chapter will begin Solas' quest to regain his friends' trust and get his daddy privileges! Will he succeed? Will it be hilarious? Stay tuned to find out!**

** If any of you have suggestions for the things he has to do for certain people let me know because I could use some ideas!**

** Favs, follows, and reviews are love!**


	6. Chapter 6

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**** I'M BACK!**

**Hello once again my lovelies we are once again back with the latest chapter of His Homecoming. Not the longest chapter, but don't worry, the next one will make up for it. **

**I know that a couple of you have complained about the spacing issues and how sometimes it makes it hard to tell when there are transitions. I have heard you, and I am working on it. I am just not used to HTML format and am still trying to figure this all out. I'm trying to find a good transition marker without being that person who writes (THIS IS A TRANSITION!) in between stuff, because I find that unprofessional. If any of you know how to alter the spacing in HTML please let me know!**

**SHOUT OUTS TO:**** MissBilboBaggins14, , Littlebluebird19, evilRevan, CourageousBagel, ** **slinky101, and everyone else who has been faving, following, and reading, you guys are awesome-sauce!**

**Any who, on with the story!**

The day of the Val Royeaux trip had finally arrived. The three days prior had been less than pleasant for the Inquisitor. In addition to dealing with the day to day tasks of running her keep, along with preparations for their journey, Nimwen also had to juggle avoiding Solas for as long as possible. She knew it was childish, but she could not help ducking behind a corner when she thought she spotted a certain bald head, or whispering to her companions if they had seen him and where so that she knew where not to go. So when it finally came time for her to leave for the Orlesian capital, the elf would be lying if she said she wasn't somewhat relieved.

In the lowest part of the castle grounds, in the large courtyard in front of the gates, Nimwen stood by and supervised the loading of the large carriage she, Lori, and Vivienne would be travelling in as they road to Val Royeaux. It was a decent looking vehicle, not as ornate or extravagant as some nobles used, which Nimwen was certain was the reason so many travelling nobles became bandit targets, but it was no ramshackle wagon either.

Despite this being a pleasure trip rather than business, a small group of Inquisition soldiers would be joining the women as an escort to Val Royeaux. The defeat of Coryphaeus did not eliminate all the dangers to the Inquisitor, as she was still a powerful figurehead, and travelling with her daughter made her all the more cautious.

Speaking of Lori, the little girl watched with fascination from her mother's arms as she watched all the people milling about. Nimwen knew that it was going to be a handful trying to keep Lori under control within the confines of the carriage, and so she made sure the girl was wearing comfortable clothes. She was wearing a loose white blouse with short frilled sleeves, green pants that reached her knees, and fur-lined brown boots. Lori put up a fuss when Nimwen made her put the shoes on. The elven girl hated wearing shoes, and would run around bare footed for the most part. Nimwen too disliked shoes, a common trait amongst elves, but she soon figured out that the Inquisitor was not supposed to greet nobles with bare feet, and had learned to appreciate the thin slippers that at least allowed her to somewhat feel the ground, and to tolerate thick boots that kept her toes from falling off in the snow.

"Mama I don't like 'em," Lori whined, kicking her legs as if to remove her clunky boots.

"I know, dalen, but it's very cold outside the keep and you need to keep your feet warm.

Lori made another whining noise and kicked again, this time her heel hitting her mother's hip.

"Lori stop that," Nimwen warned, holding her daughter's foot in her hand.

"I want them ooooooff!" Lori moaned.

"If you stop complaining you can take them off once we're in the carriage," Nimwen said.

"Yay!"

"But you are keeping your socks on."

"But mamaaaa…"

"No buts," said the Inquisitor. The little girl pouted and put her chin on the dark haired elf's shoulder.

"I hope everything's in order?"

Nimwen looked over her shoulder and saw Vivienne walking over to them.

"Oh we're fine," Nimwen said.

"I see you're both dressed up for the occasion," the enchantress said with a hint of sarcasm. Nimwen was wearing an old robe of hers in a steely grey blue that had dulled overtime and a brown leather jerkin over it. Both elves had their hair pulled into low ponytails, with Lori's being significantly longer than her mother's.

"We're going to be stuck in this thing for Creators know how long," Nimwen said, pointing to the carriage.

"I'm more focused on being comfortable than looking pretty."

"Understandable," Vivienne replied.

"Hi aunt Viv!" Lori waved to the mage.

"It's 'Vivienne', dear," the enchantress politely corrected the girl.

"That's too hard," Lori proclaimed. Vivienne huffed in amusement, but made no effort to push the matter.

"As I was saying, I hope everything is prepared?"

"Of course Vivienne, I'm not a complete disaster when it comes to planning," Nimwen joked.

The black woman smirked.

"Let's hope so," she said.

"It will take us at least five days to reach Val Royeaux, and once we're there we will be staying in the Ghislain family townhouse," she continued.

"Bastian's family let us use their townhouse even after he died?" the elf asked.

"His son and I are on good terms. When I asked if we could stay there for our visit he agreed, so long as we return it in once piece."

"Which we shall," Nimwen said, eyes shifting to Lori who was tugging on her boot.

"Right, Lori?"

"Uh-huh," the child replied absentmindedly, clearly not paying attention.

"It's been a while since you've been to the capitol," Vivienne noted.

"How long has it been, two years? I know for certain I paid Celene a visit around the time I weaned Lori."

"Regardless, Val Royeaux will be glad to have you once more," said the enchantress.

"Mama! We're goin' to Valero!"

"It's 'Val Royeaux', dear," Vivienne enunciated. Lori got a puzzled look on her face.

"Val roro...valeroo, Val…" Eventually the child just gave up and blew a raspberry, to which Nimwen laughed and Vivienne rolled her eyes.

"Oh calm down, Vivienne," Nimwen said.

"At least she's not as bad as Parsnip," the enchantress sighed.

"Don't be mean," Nimwen said.

"I do not intend to be cruel. I am simply stating the fact that the boy has a lisp, and a bad one at that."

"I think it's kinda cute," Nimwen mused.

"There is nothing cute about improper enunciation. I propose the boy see a tutor before the thing becomes irreversible."

"You'll have to take that up with Iron Bull and Dorian," Nimwen said.

"Well in that case, the boy is doomed to forever mispronounce the letter 'S'"

"Mama, can Parsey come with us?" asked Lori.

"No dalen, Parsey can't come."

The little girl pouted.

"But why not?"

"Because this is a special trip just for you, me, and aunt Vivienne," Nimwen explained.

"We're gonna be gone a long time?"

"We'll be away for three weeks," the Dalish woman replied.

Nimwen knew that amidst Lori's excitement, there was fear as well. For the majority of her short life, Lorien had remained within the grounds of Skyhold. Her mother enjoyed taking her on short trips to certain spots outside the keep, but she had never been taken outside the Frostbacks, aside from times when she was but a babe and couldn't remember anything. Because of this, this trip to Val Royeaux was actually a big milestone for the young elf. It would be the first time she'd been away from the familiar faces and buildings for more than a day. For a curious mind such as Lori's, this was an exciting adventure, but despite this she still was a tad nervous. Nimwen was determined to make sure nothing went awry and that this would be a fun birthday trip for her daughter.

"My lady." A servant girl approached the women and curtsied before the Inquisitor.

"Everything is ready your Worship. They will take off as soon as you are ready."

"Thank you, tell them that we will begin shortly, and after that you may take your leave," said Nimwen.

"Very well, your Worship."

The serving girl scurried away and Nimwen and Vivienne approached the carriage. Nimwen disliked travelling in a carriage, hidden away like some helpless noblewoman, when the vast glory of the landscape was right outside. She preferred the freedom and control riding on the back of her Hart, where the wind could blow through her hair and she could go off the path at her own discretion. Once again, having Lori along was the only reason Nimwen endured travelling within the enclosed space.

"Are you ready, darling?" asked Vivienne.

"Yes," Nimwen responded. She looked at Lori.

"Are you ready, sweetie?"

The child bobbed her head up and down excitedly. Nimwen grinned.

"Good."

They waited for the guard to open the door and they climbed inside. The inside of the carriage was nice. The seats were lined with red velvet and there was a small hatch in the floor to store anything they would need that they didn't want to make a stop for. Nimwen took her bag off of her shoulder and put it in the hatch, shutting the door. The bag was packed with the essentials that would help to keep the overactive toddler sated: snacks, some of her dolls, a change of clothes in case of messes, and a story book or two. There were also a couple of books that Nimwen packed for herself; tomes on nature-based magical application recommended by Dorian that the Dalish woman was hoping to take a look at when she hopefully had a sleeping daughter that did not need attending to.

The three women settled into their seats, Nimwen and Lori seated together while Vivienne took the seat across from them. As soon as her butt was planted in the seat, Lori reached down and yanked off her boots, letting them shoes fly every which way. Nimwen warned her about behaving as she collected the shoes and placed them neatly on the floor. The enchantress' hat proved to be too tall for the carriage cabin, the pointed horns of the Orlesian Hennin scraping against the ceiling, so it now sat beside her.

"I wanna wear," Lori said, reaching over to take the hat. Vivienne shooed the girl's grabby hands away, scooching the hat further to the corner, and out of the child's reach.

With a jerk the carriage began to move, rolling out the gates of Skyhold and onto the bridge that led into the Frostbacks. Nimwen made sure to have a carriage with uncovered windows, not only so that Lori could entertain herself by looking out at their surroundings, but also to make the confines of the cabin feel less suffocating for the Dalish elf. Lori pressed her face against the window, pointing out every little thing that caught her attention and that she deemed important, which was of course meant that everything received play-by-play commentary. Nimwen listened absentmindedly to her daughter's babbling as she let her gaze drift back to the walls of Skyhold.

She watched the guards pacing up and down the ramparts, looking like ants from so far away. Her eyes caught on a figure atop the highest point on the wall, unmoving and alone. The sun made the figure but a black silhouette, so she should have been unable to identify the person. However, while that was true, what she could make out any day was the staff clutched in the shadowy figure's hand; it was one she had spent many nights toiling over, putting her sweat, love, and pride into until it was as close to perfection as she was capable of creating, and she still remembered the way her heart swelled when her creation was met with gratitude, followed by kisses, and then followed by the first and only night of passion that she'd ever had.

She knew that Solas could not see her, but she stared at his form as if he was a breath away from her. Mentally she sent all of her feelings towards him, and a part of her liked to imagine that he could feel them. She wondered what he must be thinking watching her carriage slowly fade into the mountains. It was not the only time she found herself what went on in the enigma that was Solas' mind. Her attention was pulled back to reality when she felt Lori start jumping on the carriage seat. The child was giggling and she bounced up and down on the plush seat cushion. She calmed the little girl, pulling her into her lap as she pointed out the window, naming the types of trees that they passed and telling her which paths led where.

Lori's eyes were round in childlike wonder, staring out at the snowy mountain peaks like they were the greatest things she'd ever seen. As Nimwen stared out at the Frostbacks, the back of her mind was still in Skyhold. She prayed to the Creators that when she returned, there would be something worthwhile to come back to. For either her or her daughter.

The Inquisitor sighed to herself, absentmindedly playing in Lori's hair.

'_Three weeks,'_ she thought to herself.

A lot can happen in three weeks.

**FAVS FOLLOWS AND REVIEWS ARE MUCH LOVED!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****HOLY MOLY TWO UPDATES IN ONE DAY?!**

**Yes I decided to make up for the short chapter by releasing this behemoth right after it. Fair warning that this is gonna be a long chapter.**

**Any who, on with the story!**

….

The departure of the Inquisitor marked the beginning of Solas' mission to find favour amongst members of the Inquisition. Despite this knowledge, Solas had no clue how to begin. He had not been given a list of people in the order in which to go to, nor was he given clear instructions on how he was to gain their approval. Winning over people who had three years to garner resentment for him was not a simple matter, and Solas was lost on how to set out on this endeavour. Luckily for him, the first stepping-stone to his journey to redemption had the courtesy of coming to him.

Solas stood in his old study, putting his items back in their proper place. The light from the oil lamp glowed on the fresco adorned walls as Solas turned his chair to its proper position adjacent to his desk. His personal effects had been stored in his old room, well, his _old,_ old room. The room he'd been sleeping in before his departure was most definitely off-limits, if his old bed-mate had any say in it. His desk in the centre of the rotunda had remained where it once was, but it was bare of the piles of books and notes that once covered it, and his beloved red chair had been stored away as well. The echoing nature of the rotunda made it impossible to come in unannounced, so when footsteps sounded loudly off the walls, Solas was not surprised by his sudden guest. What did catch him off guard however, was who it was that decided to pay him a visit.

"How can I help you, Blackwall?" asked the mage politely.

The bearded man stood in the doorway of Solas' study, looking very out of place in this room of magic.

"I was looking for Dorian," Blackwall said gruffly.

"I'm afraid I haven't seen him," replied the elf. The warrior grunted to himself, brow furrowed.

"Alright then, I need you to come with me."

Solas raised an eyebrow.

"Why? Do you require magic?"

Blackwall made a noise of annoyance.

"Just come on," said the bearded man.

Solas was inclined to demand an explanation, as he was not a fan of following blind orders. However, being aware of the eggshells he was still on within the castle walls, he held his tongue and followed Blackwall silently. Blackwall led him out of the main hall, down the large stone steps, and towards the stables. They entered what was pretty much considered Blackwall's barn, the scent of hay and wood shavings filling Solas' nostrils.

"What is it you need, Blackwall?" asked the mage.

The man walked over to his work table. His wood carving tools and blocks of uncarved wood lined the table surface. Also on the table was a large object underneath a burlap tarp. When Blackwall removed the tarp Solas' eyes widened.

It was a rocking horse, but instead of a horse it was carved into the likeness of a Halla. The creature was carved with obvious care, the detailing on the halla's fur verging on realistic. The rockers curved smoothly like a bow, and had a network of knotted designs carved in the centre. The wooden animal's horns twisted elegantly and two branches curved backwards to act as handles. The rockers and the halla's horns were painted a bronze-gold colour, and the creature's body was painted a light mint green.

"It's for the little one's birthday," Blackwall explained.

"It's wonderful," Solas said as he stared at the toy. He took a step but then looked at Blackwall.

"May I?" he asked.

"Paint's dry, so go ahead," replied Blackwall.

Solas traced the etchings along the halla's side with his finger, feeling the smoothness of the lines and admiring the attention to detail.

"It is fine work, but what is it you needed from me?"

"I wanted to know if there was some sort of spell that could keep the paint from chipping over time." Blackwall explained.

"I'm sorry, I don't know any spell like that."

"Should've known, that's why I was going to ask Dorian. Fellow like that, all prissy and such, would have a way to keep up appearances."

Solas laughed.

"Yes, if anyone would know it would be him," he said.

Blackwall chuckled, but the sound did not meet his eyes. Solas could sense the tension that had been in the air since Blackwall came to him.

"If you want to say something to me, please speak," said the mage.

The bearded man stood straight, eyes boring into the elf.

"Why are you here?" Blackwall asked.

"You know why," said Solas.

"Say it again."

"I am here to help the Inquisition take down a threat, and to make amends with Nimwen and Lorien."

"And why is that, can you tell me? Are you staying out of love, or _guilt_?"

Solas' mouth curled sourly.

"I don't think you are in a position to cast judgment, Thom Rainer."

The use of his true name had the warrior stiffening.

"I know I have much to make up for, but at least when push came to shove I confronted it."

"You only stopped that execution because you felt guilty for condemning your men."

"That I did, but the point is that I _stayed,_ after the Inquisitor released me, I dedicated every day of my life to becoming a man worthy of that forgiveness."

"And that is what I am here to do too!" Solas snapped.

"Don't talk to me like you penance has made you above me, Blackwall. I may have left, but I did it out of love, albeit foolish as it was. Though you may have come forth from your own will, your original sins were from your own greed, so do not talk to me like you are somehow any different or nobler than I!"

Silence fell over the barn. Blackwall studied the mage, his expression unreadable.

"The road to redemption is rough," Blackwall said at last.

"You will never be truly rid of the stain, no matter how hard you scrub. The only way you'll ever be fully redeemed is if you die a better man than you once were. Are you ready to face that?"

"All I want is to be able to be a father to Lori, and to be a man who deserves the love Nimwen somehow still has for me. I shall do whatever it takes to achieve that, including earning your approval by the time Nimwen returns."

The warrior crossed his arms, thinking about it.

"Alright," he said at last. "I know that I am no better than you, I just wanted to be sure you understand what you are getting into. I'm willing to give my word to Nimwen, if you help me with something."

"Name it," said Solas.

Blackwall reached into his pocket. Solas noticed how he hesitated, but then he finally pulled out what had been hidden.

"Look at this," he said. Solas walked over to see what Blackwall was holding. He was not expecting to see that the hardened warrior held a ring in the palm of his hand. It was beautiful, but clearly not made by a professional jeweller. The gold made had tiny imperfections along it, but it had been shined so lovingly that it sparkled like the finest pieces in Orlais. In the centre was a decent sized diamond, oval in shape, and on each side of it were two glistening purple amethysts. Solas looked from the ring to Blackwall.

"It's impressive," said the mage.

"I spent three weeks crafting it," Blackwall said.

"I found the jewels in a dragon horde and spent every last coin to find the gold."

"But what is it for?" Solas asked.

Blackwall sighed, clutching the ring in his hand.

"I don't know if you ever heard about Josephine and I."

"I was there when Cole mentioned the flowers you sent her," Solas said.

Blackwall smirk.

"That kid and his mouth. The Ambassador and I kept our...feelings for each other chaste, as it would have been bad for the Inquisition's reputation, not to mention her position as the Montilyet heir."

"I can't imagine the discovery of your secret helped either?" Solas said.

"No, it didn't," Blackwall grunted.

"But for three years I've been doing everything I can to be a good man to her, and for some reason she still wants my good for nothing hide. I realized that I had something good, something I don't want to end."

Solas' eyebrows rose.

"You want to propose?"

"That's the idea."

"But what about her status? Like you said, that was the reason you two could not be together."

Blackwall slumped down onto a hay bale, rubbing his brow.

"I love her," he said. "And she loves me. But she deserves more than flowers and quick kisses when no one is looking. I am a man who takes these things seriously, and whether or not this ends well, I want her to know that I want commitment."

"That is…admirable of you. If you feel this strongly, why have you waited? You have a ring-"

"A ring is not enough," Blackwall interrupted.

"I have no idea what to say to her. Words are important to her, they are her weapon. She wields her pen like I do a sword, and there are many times when she gets more results than I do. If I am going to propose to her, at the risk of her reputation, I can't just come with trinkets and sweet nothings, but I am no poet. "

"And how should I help?"

"You somehow got the Inquisitor to fall for you, and she still wants you after all the shit you pulled. You have to be doing something right."

Solas laughed, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, I have no idea what she sees in me, and I don't know what you should say to Josephine-"

Suddenly a thought came to the elf.

"But I know somebody who would."

"Who?" asked Blackwall.

"One of my oldest companions, it has never failed me-"

"Hold on, _'It?'_ You're talking about a spirit?" Blackwall asked sceptically.

"A spirit of Love," Solas corrected. "Who dedicates its existence to aiding lovers in need, and who would be willing to assist you."

"And where do I find this Love spirit?"

"You and I would enter the Fade together and I would take you to the spirit," Solas explained.

"Alright. If this spirit friend of yours helps me, then I'll give a good word to the Inquisitor."

Solas smiled.

"Alright."

That night as Skyhold slept, Solas found Blackwall dreaming in the Fade. He took the warrior and guided him to where he always went to find his spirit friend. Blackwall looked around at the new scenery.

"This place sure is...pink," he said with mild distaste. This patch of the fade took the form of a small garden. Paving stones in Tuscan red made an ornate swirling pattern that curved inward under a lacy gazebo painted a light pink. Surrounding the gazebo were salmon coloured arbours filled with an explosion of roses. They were a delicate pink colour and covered almost every surface of the garden.

Solas chuckled.

"The spirit has a, distinct taste for-"

"DARLING!"

Both men were startled by a blur of pink that suddenly latched onto the elf's back.

"The hell?!" Blackwall reached for his sword until he remembered he lacked one.

"Calm down, Blackwall," Solas laughed as his face was nuzzled like a puppy.

The elf was suddenly released, and he turned to face his benign attacker.

"It is good to see you too," he smiled to the spirit. The Spirit of Love took the form of a young woman. She was undoubtedly beautiful, with luscious curves and a flawless face that would have any man begging for just the chance to look at her. Her skin was snowy white, and glowed like the pure energy that she was made of. She wore no clothes, but her skin was covered in markings similar to a koi fish; the patches looked like encrusted pink diamonds that covered her large portions of her body, and swirled along her arms and legs. Her hair was impossibly long looked like it was made of soft pink flames, floating all around her as if she were underwater. She looked at Solas with round doe eyes that were a striking rose colour and fanned by white lashes.

"It has been too long," said the spirit, a smile on her full pink lips. Her voice was light and musical, beauty in sound.

"Indeed," said Solas. He turned to Blackwall, who was staring at the spirit in awe.

"Blackwall, this is Love, Love, this is Blackwall."

Love giggled, floating down to stand in front of the warrior.

"I sense that your heart is troubled," said Love.

For a moment Blackwall struggled to regain use of his tongue, and so he just nodded dumbly.

"He wishes to propose to his beloved," Solas explained for the tongue-tied warrior.

"However he does not know what words to say."

Love looked at Blackwall. She gently placed one of her delicate hands on his chest.

"Your heart swells with love," she said sweetly.

"And your love is returned in full. I shall help your tongue say what your heart cannot."

"I uh...thank you," said Blackwall. Love giggled.

"It's my pleasure," the spirit said.

While the night passed over Skyhold, in the dream world it remained a cheerful afternoon within Love's garden. She worked with Blackwall to help him create his proposal. He spoke to her his thoughts and feelings for Josephine, what he wanted to say, as awkward as muddled as it was, and the spirit helped him weave his thoughts into something coherent and elegant.

Solas for his part remained in the background, keen to allow Love to do what she did best. It brought him much happiness to see his old friend again. Love had been one of the first spirits he'd ever befriended when he was just a young man. She found joy in aiding those with troubled thoughts of love, and sought to help them. Solas would find them as they dreamed, and would lead them unseen to Love, who would help them with their troubles, and wake up with clear hearts and minds. He admired the spirit for its selflessness. Too many times the creatures of the Fade sought to steal away the memories and feelings of mortals and feed on them. Love did not desire mortal memories or emotions of love, and found reward only in the radiating happiness of love achieved. She was one of his most beloved spirits, and he was forever grateful she had no desire to help others from outside of the Fade.

It was soon that Blackwall and love found themselves finished.

"Your heart is lighter," said Love happily.

"It...is," Blackwall said in disbelief. "I don't think I could ever have come up with all that by myself."

"You did come up with it yourself," Love said. "I merely helped you put your feelings into order."

"I thank you," Blackwall said to the spirit. He turned to Solas.

"And to you as well, Solas."

"You're welcome," said the mage. "Now I believe it is time for you to wake up."

Solas waved his hand, and the form of Blackwall disappeared, as his physical form returned to the waking world.

"It has been too long since you brought me someone in need."

Solas turned around to face the spirit.

"Forgive me; much has happened since we last met."

"I know." Love's voice became solemn, something that did not match the usually joyous spirit.

"Your heart is so dark," said Love, putting a hand over the elf's heart.

Solas sighed.

"I know," he said.

"You must let me help," Love insisted. The mage shook his head.

"It is nothing to concern yourself with-"

"_Once again you delude yourself."_

Solas was startled when the scenery suddenly changed. The rosy hues of Love's garden melted and reshaped themselves, turning from soft and gentle to sharp and hard. Solas now stood inside a circular room made of cream coloured stones. Lining the walls were narrow windows of green and blue stain glass that rose up until they met at the centre of the domed ceiling. The stone walls and floors were carved to look like dragon scales, and the light bleeding in from the stain glass made them shimmer.

Though it had been ages since he last came here, he remembered this room well.

"Mercy," he said, his voice echoing off the walls.

_"Hello old friend,"_ said the master of the room. Every time he visited it, the spirit had a different form. This time, Mercy took the form of a Qunari woman. She stood tall and noble, clad in silver robes that clung to her shapely hips and chest and exposed her broad shoulders. Her horns grew stick-straight out of her head, bare of nicks or imperfections along the grey bone. Though her face was young, Mercy's hair was a startling white and spiralling in wild coils around her head.

Slowly Mercy approached him, her feet making no sound.

"It has been a long time since you've summoned yourself to me," Solas said.

_"It has been a long time since you have been in need of me as much as you do now."_ Mercy's voice was like the well preserved treasures of a long lost ruin, ancient without being decrepit. It also was lousy with kindness and a wisdom that was lost from the waking world.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the elf said.

"_That you so easily lie, when you know that all truths are mine to see, brings me much sadness. How long have you been a secret keeper and a deceiver, when once you were wild and free as the wind?"_

Solas slumped.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

Mercy smiled, showing pearly white teeth that contrasted with her caramel skin.

"_And you are forgiven, as that is in my nature, and that is what you deserve."_

Solas scoffed.

"If there is one thing that I deserve the least, it is forgiveness."

Mercy arched an elegant brow.

"_Why do you continue to maintain this facade? Come, stand before me for what you are; there are no secrets in this place, dear wolf."_

His eyes traced the patterns of the stain glass. The designs were ever shifting, twisting and reforming themselves for a moment, until a new shape starting forming. The movement made spots of light dance around the room like sunlight through water. He closed his eyes, the memory of the beautiful glass dancing behind his eyelids. With a shuddering breath, Fen'Harel dropped his facade.

"I am confused," he said to the spirit. Mercy nodded.

"_That much is clear,"_ she said.

"You made a vow to remain by her side, but you are having doubts."

"Of course I am," the elf snapped. Fen'Harel began to pace, his footsteps echoing angrily off the stone floor.

"I want to stay, just as I did when I realized I was in love with her. But like back then, I know that it will never work out."

"_And yet you are striving to earn your place in the child's life," _Mercy pointed out.

"I realize this," he said through gritted teeth.

_"You contradict yourself at every turn-"_

"I know!" Fen'Harel barked. The spirit was unfazed by the elf's hostility. The elven man pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing heavily through his nose.

"I feel as though I am pulled every which way," he said.

"_Tell me what is you want-"_

"It is not about what I want!" Fen'Harel turned to Mercy, his eyes full of torment.

"This is about rebuilding Elvhenan, and that I have ruined this goal with my own selfishness and foolishness."

_"I know the prize for which you seek,"_ said Mercy.

"_But what I want you to say is what you want."_

"I want-!"

Fen'Harel paused, his eyes widening. He bowed his head, the tension in his body slowly releasing.

"...them," he whimpered as his frame began to shake.

"I want them both, more than I have ever wanted anything before. But that is selfish of me."

He looked up at Mercy, his eyes glistening.

"Am I to just put my own desires before my duty? To cast aside my crimes in exchange for a life of lying to the ones I love?"

_"You need not lie,"_ said Mercy.

Fen'Harel chuckled bitterly.

"You say that I should just tell Nimwen who I am? That I am the villain of her people's tales, and that it was my own doing that caused the breach and the rise of Coryphaeus?"

_"I said no such thing. She has already embraced you despite the secrets you keep. Should you wish to tell her of your true form, that is your decision."_

"But you just told me not to lie," Fen'Harel retorted.

"_I meant not to your beloved,"_ Mercy explained.

"To whom else have I lied?"

"_Yourself."_

The elf's eyes widened.

"_It is to yourself that you have told the greatest lie of all."_

"And what is that?" Fen'Harel asked sarcastically.

"_That you are undeserving of happiness."_

The mage fell silent, the smirk dripping off his face.

"_I see into the hearts of mortals and spirits alike,"_ said Mercy as she paced around the room_._

_ "This is how I know who is deserving of my forgiveness. I also have eyes in both the yesterday and the tomorrow, so that I see what paths my mercy shall lead to."_

"And to what path does mine lead to?" asked Fen'Harel.

"_Many, depending on how you decide to move forward._"

Mercy looked at him.

"_You feel guilt for the pain you have caused to Nimwen, do you not?"_

"Of course I do," he responded instantly.

"_And you would do anything to keep her from being hurt once more?"_

"Yes."

"_So how can you believe your absence shall do anything but cause harm?"_

Fen'Harel looked away.

"_You still feel undeserving of her,"_ Mercy said.

"She does not deserve me," said Fen'Harel. "She deserves somebody worthy of her affections."

_"She deserves happiness,"_ said Mercy. She placed her large hands on the elf's shoulders.

"_And you give her that."_

"She deserves love as well!"

Fen'Harel was startled by the appearance of the third voice.

"Love?"

The pink and white spirit was suddenly beside Mercy, her beautiful face looking at him in earnest.

"She deserves it and so do you! You two are halves of one whole."

"I-I…" Fen'Harel stared back and forth between the two spirits. The room had changed. The stone walls now bore twisting vines of roses that grew around the stain glass and perfumed the air.

"But what of my duty?" he asked.

"I cannot forget the vow I made to Mythal, to myself."

Mercy looked away from the elven man, her silver eyes flicking to one of the stain glass windows.

_"I see into the hearts of mortals so that I may know who is deserving of forgiveness,"_ she said quietly.

_ "I also have eyes into the yesterday and the tomorrow so that I know which paths my mercy leads to."_

She lifted one of her hands and suddenly the curling movements in the glass halted.

Fen'Harel watched as the green and blue glass began to form a coherent picture. It was a vision of the Exalted Plains, and a great storm was brewing over the burned lands. The thunder clouds were pluming inky black, swollen with unshed rain. On a great hill stood a great host of elven warriors, thousands upon thousands of them, in shining armour and bearing weapons that looked out of a legend. At the top of the hill stood a large Halla, clad in gilded armour and horns that twisted more intricately than the oldest tree in Thedas. The creature's rider wore rich blue robes under sleek armour the colour of polished leaves, and a helmet that had horns just like the warrior's Halla. The rider dismounted and stood before the army, flanked by two black haired elves clad in matching blue armour.

The rider removed the horned helmet and revealed the face hidden beneath. The elven woman was young, but there was danger mixed with her beauty as she stared down her forces with a stern gaze. Her blue eyes were piercing and fierce, and burned with might.

Fen'Harel gasped.

Wrapped around her head in a crown of braids, was striking yellow hair.

"That's...is that-?"

"Hear me now my people!" shouted the elven woman. Her voice rang across the field with authority unmatchable.

"Here we shall stand, and together we shall bring back the glory of Elvhenan!"

The two elven men who stood beside her unsheathed their swords and raised them in the air, both yelling in unison,

"What say you?!"

In return, the army of elves let out a great shout.

The elven woman raised her staff in the air, the crystal glowing.

"What say you?!" she cried.

With that a unified roar erupted from the army. Swords banged against shields and staffed pounded the ground. The sound of thousands of elves thundered over the Plains louder than the storm clouds above. Fen'Harel stood in awe as the yellow haired woman continued to rile her warriors with her voice. Her voice still rung true even as the vision began to fade away.

"No bring it back!" Fen'Harel cried as the picture faded completely. Before he could fully argue another picture was forming.

It was much like the one before it, but with significant differences. It was still the Exalted Plains, but instead of thunderclouds the sky was red with the setting sun. There was another host of elves, but they were not armoured warriors, but leather and fur clad elves with marked faces.

"Dalish?" said Fen'Harel with confusion. He had never seen a gathering of Dalish this large before; it seemed as though every clan in Thedas was gathered on that great hill.

"What is this-?" The elven man paused as the crowd began to shift. Like curtains they parted, allowing a lone person to walk to the top of the hill.

Once more the mage stood in wonder as the woman turned to face the crowd. She wore the robes of a high keeper, adorned in fine furs and foliage as if the garment was grown from the earth itself. Her hair was wild and woven with Dawn Lotus blossoms throughout her golden locks.

Though her face bore no Vallaslin, the Dalish looked upon her with utter adoration.

"Look upon her!" proclaimed an elderly Dalish woman.

"Here is she who shall lead our people into glory!"

The woman knelt onto one knee, and the old elf placed a crown of ironbark and elfroot atop her head. When the young woman rose, she looked out to the elven host with shining blue eyes.

"We were the last of the Elvhen, and we did not forget!" she cried proudly.

"And now we shall never again submit!"

Cheers of joy busted out like wild fire. The elves called out the name of the elf woman, with only love and hope on their lips.

Once again despite his protests, Fen'Harel watched as the vision disintegrated and reformed itself. This time the scene was something new altogether. It was no longer in the Exalted Plains, instead what could only be the gardens of Skyhold. Fen'Harel questioned why he was watching this, when his eyes found the garden's lone occupant.

She wore a simple green dress, fine but not extravagant. Her hair flowed down her back in a waterfall of gold, and fell in front of her porcelain face until it was tucked behind one of her pointed ears. The elf was tending to a dead bush, long since shrivelled and rotten. She took one of the shrivelled branches into her hands, holding it like it was a baby bird.

It was then that she began to sing, and Fen'Harel felt his entire being change. Her voice was not the sweetest of songs, but the love and tenderness behind it was wholly transcendent. As she sung what was once a withered husk sprouted into a blossoming bush, bearing bright blue crystal grace blossoms and vibrant green leaves.

When she stopped her song it was like a light had left the world. However, as she looked upon the rejuvenated life she smiled; an honest and innocent expression that showed the happiness this simple task gave her.

For the third and last time the vision faded, and the window returned to being blue and green glass.

Fen'Harel was unmoving, so lost in himself that he did not bother to wipe the tears from his eyes. Love did this for him, her delicate fingers wiping the wetness from his cheeks.

"It was her," he whispered hollowly.

"_The children of Fen'Harel shall play a hand in the future of Thedas," _said Mercy.

"Which of these visions is the future?" asked Fen'Harel.

"_They are all what may come to pass, depending on what you do today."_

Had this not been the Fade, the elf was certain he would faint. Instead he pressed his palm against the stain glass. He could feel the energy writhe beneath his touch.

"I can't believe it," he whispered, more to himself than to the spirits.

Fen'Harel turned to the two spirits.

"What do I do?" he asked desperately. Love floated to him, and pulled him into her arms.

"Love and be loved," she said soothingly.

"_Forgive and be forgiven," _said Mercy, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The dam finally broke and the elven man crumpled to the floor, and into the embrace of the Fade creatures.

A millennia of sorrow peeled off of him in layers as he sobbed. When he quieted down he felt an emptiness inside. This was not a bad thing though; the hollowness inside of him a sweet relief from the burden that once filled the void.

_"Stand, old friend,"_ said Mercy. Fen'Harel straightened his shoulder and stood firm.

"_Now tell me,"_ said the spirit_, "What is it you want?"_

"I want a family," he said.

The two spirits looked at one another.

"Don't be afraid," Love told him. He smiled at the pink and white spirit.

"I will try," he replied.

_"Yes well, I do believe you can't begin until you wake up,"_ said Mercy.

"Ah yes, I believe you're right," Fen'Harel said. The elf closed his eyes and concentrated. In an instant the room and its roses and stain glass were gone, and the world around Fen'Harel faded to black.

….

Dawn drifted over Skyhold like a calm fog. Tucked away in his old quarters, the elven mage laid in his bed deep in sleep. As light filtered in through the window, so too did the elf's mind filter back into the realm of the waking. His eyelids twitched, and then they slowly opened to reveal sleep glazed eyes. The mage sat up in bed, lazily regarding the room he had slept many a night in. He willed himself to undo the cocoon of blankets wrapped around him. The stone floor was cold under his bare feet as the elf stood from his bed. He lumbered over to the window and drew back the tattered curtain.

The morning sky was a wash of blue and purple, with streaks of pink near the ghostly sun. It set a gentle shadow over the keep grounds, where no soul yet stirred. Solas stared out the window, looking over the new day, and smiled.

….

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****LORDY LORDY!**

**This had to be one of my favourite chapters to write, and the one I was the most excited to get to. Hope y'all liked it!**

**FAVS FOLLOWS AND REVIEWS ARE LOVE!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'M BAAAAAAAACK!**

**Hello my lovelies I am back once more to bring yet another chapter! I just want you guys to know though, that after this it may be a while until I update. I have other fics that I feel like I should be paying more attention to, namely my Homestuck fic that I haven't touched in months, so sorry about that, but I am not giving this fic up I assure you.**

**SHOUT-OUTS TO: ****parasitehunter, Ellethe, ticklemepeace, Salji, Btigeriz, Alya710, JuliaGhoulia, maggied1985, Winterlight89, Dazja, crazfool, LadySif7, Tazziie, SEEKER-2000, Amethiste, jessica jean, LittleGrowl, Moonlit Yume, ElyssaCousland, neodova, zeezle, Mira Nara, and all the other wonderful people who have been supporting this story!**

**Anywho, in with the story!**

* * *

Solas could feel every pair of eyes watching him like they were the mosquitoes that nipped at his skin during his time in the Fallow Mires; and just like those mosquitoes, he knew that there was nothing he could do to deter them and that no matter how many he swatted more would take their place. When he made the decision to come back to Skyhold, he knew that he was going to garner much attention, especially since his appearance was not one that could be easily mistaken for someone else. After returning to a life of solitude away from the majority of civilization, it was still a process to go back to being accustomed to the sheer amount of people surrounding him, or being the centre of attention once more. So like those mosquitoes forever buzzing around him, he ignored the eyes staring at him and continued on his path.

The elven man made his way down the large stone steps to the lower courtyard of Skyhold, with his destination being the stables. He thought it wise to check in on Blackwall. He wanted to make sure that everything between them was good, and that he was fine after a journey into the Fade. As he made it to the stables, he passed by Master Dennet.

"Good day, Dennet," Solas greeted.

The dark skinned man turned around and squinted at the elf.

"Ah, it's you, never thought I'd see you again, master elf."

"Nor I you," the mage replied as he watched Dennet handling the reins of one of the human's charges. Solas smiled and approached the creature.

"Hello again, Raindrop," the elf said as he stroked the scaly hide of the Dracolisk. Raindrop was the Inquisitor's personal Dracolisk, a wily Hunter Shade with the penchant for eating up trout and kicking bandits in the stomach. Solas remembered the day that a group of Dracolisks were purchased for the Inquisition, and how Nimwen had been nervous upon seeing the scaly creatures. He did not blame her; she had been raised around horses and Halla, so the scaly intimidating look of the exotic creatures was a sight indeed. He knew as soon as he saw it that she would be interested in the blue-green Dracolisk, and he had watched as she timidly reached out to touch the beast. However, what he remembered more fondly was the squeal of joy she made when the creature licked her hand with a playful trilling sound, and how she immediately claimed him for herself. She named him Raindrop because according to her, his shiny blue scales reminded her of rain glistening in the sun.

Solas stroked the Dracolisk's snout and heard it trill affectionately.

"Going to see Ser Blackwall?" asked the old horse master.

"Yes, is he in right now?" replied Solas.

"Ah yes, but I'd be careful," warned Dennet. "Man has a look like he either going to break something or someone apart."

Before Solas could inquire further, there was a loud crash that came from inside the barn.

"What was that?" Dennet asked.

"I don't know, but I shall find out," said Solas. The mage walked around to the entrance to the barn.

"Blackwall?" he called.

The elf poked his head inside the barn to find it in disarray. Hay and dust drifted in the air like snow and tables and objects had been turned over and thrown about. In the middle of all this was Blackwall, who looked angrier than Solas had ever seen him. The warrior whipped his head around when he heard Solas step on some hay.

"What do you want?!" Blackwall barked.

"I heard a commotion and wanted to know what was wrong-"

"It ain't none of your business, elf!"

"Blackwall what happened."

"This is all your fault!"

Solas raised a brow. "My fault?"

"You just had to do it didn't ya? You just had to go and get my hopes up! Well thanks for nothing, knife-ear because it's all down the shitter now!"

Solas was taken back by the slur and Blackwall's tone, but still he persisted. "Blackwall please tell me what's going on."

The bearded man's anger slowly melted to a look of defeat as he slumped down atop a hay bale. Cautiously, Solas approached Blackwall. When he saw Blackwall's face he paused. The warrior looked haggard and lost, but in his eyes there was still an anger simmering behind the veil of sadness.

"What's wrong, what happened?" asked Solas.

Blackwall stared down at his lap, and in his hands Solas realized was Josephine's ring. His large fingers twisted around the delicate ring, holding the home-crafted jewellery like it was more valuable than anything.

"This morning, I…" Blackwall began, his voice quiet.

"I talked to Josephine this morning."

Given his emotional state and the fact that he still had the ring, Solas feared where this was going.

"Did you propose?"

"No, because before I could say anything, she told me that she was engaged."

Solas' eyes widened.

"I…beg your pardon?"

"You heard me elf!" snapped the warrior. "Her parents have her engaged to some Antivan nobleman, one 'Lord Adorno Ciel Otranto.'" Blackwall said the man's name with the same disapproval one would give to a diseased corpse.

"Her parents? They are forcing her into a marriage?"

"She is a noblewoman, I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner," Blackwall said bitterly.

"And how did she take this?"

"She was downright livid when she found out!" the bearded man growled.

"She said she was going to try and get it undone, which will involve a lot of arguments with her parents, and that until then we must pretend like we are nothing but colleagues."

Solas was still confused.

"If she's getting it revoked then what is the matter?"

"It's a sign, Solas."

"A sign?"

"A sign that this will never work out," Blackwall sighed as he shook his head.

"She's a noble, a highborn lady. I'm just a washed up soldier who can't even use the prestige of the Wardens as a way to lift myself up. How could I honestly believe that she could be with a man like me, let alone marry me?"

"But you care for her, and she for you."

"That doesn't matter!" Blackwall's burning eyes stared into Solas'

"There are some things in this world that just can't be, and I'm only now realizing that this is one of them. I am just a problem that she doesn't need."

"You're saying that you ended it with her?"

"N-no, she never gave me the chance, and I…don't know how to say it."

"Do you want to know why that is?"

Blackwall raised a brow in confusion.

"It's because you don't want to end it."

"Of course I don't want to end it!" Blackwall stood up, the large man towering over the elf.

"Do you honestly think that I want to do this? I would give anything to be with her, and the thought of letting her go has me damn near going to the tavern to drink myself to death!"

"Then what are you doing?" Solas snapped back. Blackwall was caught off guard by the elf's sudden hostility.

"Blackwall nobody said that love was easy, just look at me. Do you think that I would be where I am if it was a walk in the park."

"To be blunt, I don't think that you are the best example to use when it comes to relationships, elf." Blackwall retorted with snark. Solas rolled his eyes at the man's attempt at humour.

"What I'm saying is that I was feeling exactly what you are feeling; that it would just be easier for both parties if I just ended it before people got hurt, but you can't think that way with love. I can't give up if I want to repair things with Nimwen and Lorien, and you cannot either. You keep saying that Josephine is better off without you, but why don't you let her decide that? Don't throw away your chance at happiness on the chance that it won't work out, and face this like you do enemies in battle: head-on."

Blackwall was quiet, clearing thinking over the mage's words. Solas waited and watched the warrior's internal struggle play out on his face.

"...You're right."

Blackwall looked up, in his eyes there was now flames of determination.

"You're right, I can't just throw in the towel like some coward, and I ain't about to let that nobleman marry Josephine."

"Good. So what are you going to do?" asked Solas.

"Josephine said that she's meeting Otranto in Val Royeaux in three days' time to see about ending the marriage. If I leave now I should be able to get to the city ahead of time to face him myself."

"Very well, and I shall go with you."

Blackwall raised an eyebrow.

"Solas you don't have to do that-"

Solas raised his hand to silence him.

"I got myself involved in all this, and I shall see it to the end."

Blackwall nodded.

"Alright, let's go."

Without telling anyone, Blackwall and Solas quickly packed for the ride to Val Royeaux. The two men scrapped whatever they could grab fast and two of the stable's fastest Dracolisks. Solas did think about the consequences if Nimwen found out that he had taken Raindrop without her knowledge, but as he and Blackwall rode out the gates, he figured he would deal with them when and if they came. Aside from Nimwen, Solas was the only one that Raindrop allowed to ride him. Perhaps it was because the beast could sense that the elf was his rider's mate, or perhaps it was mere coincidence. Regardless, as he and Blackwall sped away down the winding mountain path, something in Solas was pleased to note that even after three years, the Dracolisk still let him ride it.

They rode on well into the night and into the morning, only stopping when the Dracolisks were too exhausted to gallop any further. After a day of hard riding, the two finally found the gates of Val Royeaux before them. The man and elf fell into the hustle and bustle of the busy city, colourful and frivolous as ever.

"Do you even know where you are going?" Solas asked as he tried keeping up with the man. Blackwall weaved in and out of the crowds of Orleasians at what looked like random to Solas.

"There's an inn for nobles that's the only one that specializes in Antivan wines, if he's at any of these inns it'll be that one," explained Blackwall. They reached the edge of the marketplace and Blackwall found the stairs that would lead to the upper levels where the inn was. They passed by a cafe, where the scent of sweets and the sounds of small talk wafted into the air like perfume. Just as they passed by the sheltered patio area connected to the cafe, they heard a distinctly accented voice stand out from the hum.

"...yes and who would have thought I'd end up with a Montilyet girl?"

Solas saw Blackwall stop and watched him turn towards the voice. Sitting at one of the tables with two others was a handsome man dressed in fine blue clothes and a shining sabre at his hip.

"You there," Blackwall shouted as he approached them.

The blue clad man looked up.

"Can I help you?" the man asked with obvious confusion. His Antivan accent was unmistakable.

"Are you Adorno Ciel Otranto?" Blackwall asked.

"The very same," replied Adorno.

"And you are betrothed to Lady Josephine?"

"Yes I am," The lord quirked an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"I request that you withdraw this engagement," Blackwall said. Solas, who was standing silently behind Blackwall, could hear the restraint in the warrior's voice.

Adorno laughed.

"Ha! And why, good ser, would I do such a thing?"

"Because she does not love you."

"Of course she doesn't, we have yet to meet after all. However, once she arrives here I have no doubt that that shall change very quickly," the Antivan chuckled, the intentions behind his words highlighted by his cat-like smirk.

Blackwall growled.

"She does not want this, this was arranged by her parents and I am requesting that you end this."

"Who are you to demand that I end my betrothal, and how does this concern you?" Adorno asked. Suddenly realization lit the nobleman's eyes.

"Wait a moment, are you...ohohoho yes you are! I can see it in your eyes, you fancy her don't you? You must be the Marcher beast I heard that the lady has been...acquainted with. Well ser, I have no problem with your and Lady Montilyet's past affairs, but I'm afraid that once we are wed that will have to come to an end."

"Our 'affair' won't be ending because I won't see her forced into a marriage with someone like you," Blackwall snapped.

The amused look on Adorno's face was snuffed out, and was replaced by an irritated frown.

"'Like me?' What makes you so much more suitable for her than I?"

"Absolutely nothing, I don't deserve her at all," Blackwall admitted. "And if you don't stop this engagement, I might have to do something that makes me even less worthy of her."

Adorno eyes widened, before his look of surprise was quickly turned into a glare.

"Is that a threat?" the Antivan stood and stared Blackwall right in the eye. Though he was shorter than Blackwall, the nobleman still carried an intimidating air about him. Many bystanders began to sense the growing threat of conflict, and many stopped to watch the scene unfold.

"Do you wish to challenge me for her?"

"Absolutely," Blackwall said.

"It's settled, we shall duel, right here right now."

The two men moved their quarrel to the centre of the courtyard, surrounded by an eager and anxious crowd.

One of Adorno's companions handed him his sabre, which the Antivan tossed to Blackwall as he drew his own weapon.

"The winner shall have Lady Montilyet's hand," said Adorno.

"Agreed," said Blackwall, tightening his grip on the sword.

Solas watched from the crowd as the two men began fighting. The clinking of sabres rang out as the men struck at each other, parrying to and fro. Adorno was more swift and agile than Blackwall, who was accustomed to more blunt and powered attacks with sword and shield, but Solas was impressed to him be able to hold his own with the smaller sword.

"I'm impressed," Adorno laughed as he dodged another strike.

"I would never have guessed a lumbering Marcher such as yourself capable of anything other than clubbing each other over the heads."

"Piss off!" Blackwall snapped as he lunged again.

Adorno caught the strike with his blade, his coattails fluttering behind him as he twisted his body to break away from Blackwall. He began swiping at the bearded man, walking with ease as he forced the larger man to back up while blocking his strikes. Eventually Blackwall caught the other man's blade and the two crossed swords, faces close as they tried to push back their opponent.

"It's a good thing Josephine is not here to witness this," Adorno sneered. "Cutting you down in front of her would have made a poor impression on my bride."

"You. Will never. Have her," Blackwall growled.

"Ha! We shall see!" Adorno laughed as the two men broke apart. They began circling each other, the bloodlust in their eyes fuelled by their passion and the egging of the crowd. Solas began to worry that this would not end well. He could see that Blackwall was growing weary, and that fighting in a style so opposite to his own was putting him at a disadvantage.

"Stop!" Solas, along with everyone else were startled by the sudden voice crying out. Unlike the others in the crowd, Solas was in more shock because he could recognize that voice. Everyone turned to watch as Josephine herself broke from the crowd. Josephine seemed to not realize that she walked right by the elf as she stormed into the middle of the circle looking a mix of worry and anger.

"Josephine?" Blackwall said in surprise as he lowered his weapon. Adorno bowed as the Antivan woman approached.

"Lady Montilyet what a pleasure to-"

"What are you doing?" Josephine completely ignored the nobleman and stood in front of Blackwall looking the definition of upset.

"Josephine I can't risk the chance that you might have to marry him." Blackwall explained. "That's not your decision!" she cried.

"The Inquisition needs you, I need you, yet you throw yourself into danger!" she screamed. There was something interesting to behold, to see such a dainty, unintimidating woman scolding the armed warrior with no fear. Despite the fact that she had to look up to face him, Blackwall stood hunched like a scolded child. She began to pace, wringing her hair as if holding back the desire to wring him instead.

"Why do this?" she asked, looking back at him desperately.

"Why risk getting hurt over a stupid sword fight in the streets? Why risk your life?!"

"Because I'm in love with you!"

That proclamation brought gasps from the crowd followed by silence. Josephine was frozen, her eyes wide as plates and her mouth slightly agape.

"You...you are?" she stammered.

"He is?!" Lord Otranto said in confusion.

"Andraste's tits, look at me! I'm fighting some puffed-up Antivan pretty boy with this toothpick of a sword in the middle of the bloody street and making a complete ass of myself, of course I'm in love with you!"

"Hey who are you calling a puffed-up pretty boy-?!"

"Listen, Josie," Blackwall said cutting off the offended nobleman. Beneath his beard there was a redness forming on Blackwall's cheeks, and in an instance the strong stalwart warrior was replaced by a man nervously putting his heart on display.

"There's so much I need to say, and I had this whole speech written down, but well, I didn't exactly expect to see you here," he chuckled nervously.

"But sod it, I need to put it out there, and I should have to rely on a floating pink spirit lady to tell you the truth."

"Wait what about a floating pink spirit lady-?"

"Josie, for the better part of my life, I have not been a good man. I've been a cheater, a traitor, a liar, and no better than any run of the mill thug. Then I joined the Wardens and pretended to be a better man, and along the way I decided to do good in the world. But then I joined the Inquisition, and I met you. As soon as I laid eyes on you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. I watched you work, and heard you speak, and realized not only were you beautiful, but you were an extraordinary person. You carry yourself with the grace and confidence of a queen but with the kindness and modesty of a Chantry sister. My whole life I've solved my problems with my fists or my blade, and then I watched you, just a woman with no blades, no magic, who defeats her enemies with words and a smile, and I was enthralled. Every moment we spent together, every secret look, every little trinket you hid in my gear, every smile you had when I made you laugh, those things brought me more satisfaction than killing a thousand darkspawn. I've done so much wrong in this world, I've told so many lies, but Josie, loving you has been the only thing I've never lied about. After the Inquisition found out who I really was, I did everything in my power to win you back, and when you eventually forgave me, it was the happiest moment in my life. Being a Warden and joining the Inquisition is what made me want to become a man who does good, but Josie, you're the reason why I want to be a good man!"

"Thom I…" Josephine held a hand over her mouth, and she looked overwhelmed by emotion.

"I love you Jo. I love the way you smile, I love your accent, I love how soft your hair is when you actually let it down, I love how you snort when you laugh too hard and then try to hide it, I love how you call me out on my shit and are there when I need to speak my mind, I love how you smell like oranges and cinnamon, I love how you lift your foot when we kiss like you're a princess in a fairy-tale. I love everything about you Jo, and there's nobody else I'd rather be with."

Her face had been a mask of shock and confusion, but by the time he finished speaking, the mask had cracked, and now in its place was a look of utter joy as the purest of smiles spread across her lips.

"I love you too!" she cried unashamed as she ran to her beloved. Blackwall pulled her into an embrace and spun her around in the air, the crowd clapping and cheering at the romantic scene. Solas smiled a bittersweet smile, feeling both happiness for his friends, and the longing for those three years of what could have been. Blackwall put her down and immediately her arms were around his neck, pressing her lips against his. The sound of slow clapping caused the two to break apart and turn their gazes to Adorno.

"Well fought," said the nobleman.

"Lord Otranto-" Josephine began, nervousness on her face.

"I had assumed that your affair was one of passion or convenience, Lady Montilyet. But I am not fool enough to stand in the way of true affection."

As if making a point, Blackwall put one of his strong arms around her protectively, and she leant into his side.

"The Otrantos regretfully withdraw the terms of our betrothal," Lord Otranto said to Josephine.

"Thank you," she replied gratefully, her smile mixed with apology. Adorno returned the expression, a silent acceptance for the end of what almost was.

"Do not thank me; I know when I'm outmatched." He smirked at Blackwall as he and his men departed.

As the crowd scattered Josephine and Blackwall stood with their hands joined and their foreheads pressed together. Out of nowhere she slapped his chest.

"What was that for?" he grunted.

"Don't ever do something like that again!" Josephine scolded him, wagging her finger for good measure. Blackwall gave a good natured laugh, and Josephine broke her facade of anger to giggle along with him. Suddenly Blackwall's eyes widened, letting out a noise of realization.

"I had almost forgotten!" he said.

"Forgot what?" Josephine asked suspiciously. Instead of answering her, Blackwall fished inside his pocket, grumbling to himself as he dug around for whatever he was searching for. When he found it, he kept the object hidden in his fist.

"What is that?" asked Josephine. The Antivan gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as Blackwall got down on one knee in front of her.

"I was planning on doing something a bit more special," the man admitted. "But after all this, I just couldn't wait. Blackwall unclenched his fist to reveal the ring in his palm.

"Oh Thom," Josephine whispered.

"Josephine Cherette Montilyet, would you do me the honour of being my wife?" Blackwall proposed, his eyes glimmering with hope.

"Y-yes," Josephine answered, her voice choked.

"Oh goodness yes I will marry you!" she cried, the tears she was holding back finally falling. Without word Blackwall grabbed her and dipped her into a passionate kiss. When he righted her she held the back of his head and crushed her lips back against his, to which he reciprocated. Josephine was a mess, caught between laughing and crying as she pelted Blackwall's face with frantic kisses. Blackwall the whole time was laughing, while he was secretly holding back tears of his own; something he would never admit of course, but if one were ever to ask Josephine if his eyes shined glassy, she wouldn't say no. As she tried dabbing away the tears on her face, the ambassador let out a small keening noise when Blackwall slid the ring onto her finger.

"Oh it's beautiful," she squealed, staring at the jewellery on her hand lovingly. She twisted her hand and watched the diamond and twin amethysts sparkle in the sunlight.

"I made it myself," said Blackwall.

"You did?" Josephine smiled. "Then I love it even more!"

"Congratulation you two," said Solas as he approached the couple. It was the first time the Antivan realized that Solas was there, and she looked at him in confusion.

"Solas? What are you doing here?"

"You have him to thank for all this," said Blackwall, pointing to the elf.

"I came with him to make sure that he didn't do anything foolish," Solas replied. "It seems that I did a poor job of that though."

"He's the one who got me to pull my head out my arse and helped me remember what was important," Blackwall explained.

"Without him, I don't think I could have found it within myself to ask the question."

"I see." Josephine walked up to Solas. He stiffened when, to his surprise, she pulled the mage into a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered. Hearing her voice trembling with happiness and gratitude, Solas relaxed his stance and even returned the gesture.

"You have no idea how much I appreciated what you did for us," said Josephine as she returned to Blackwall's side. Automatically one of his arms snaked around her gold-clad waist, and she put one of her hands on his chest.

"It was my pleasure," said Solas.

"And as for you and me, rest assured that you and I are on good terms," Josephine added, referring to his and Nimwen's agreement.

Solas nodded.

"That is good to hear," he said.

Blackwall bent down to capture Josephine's lips in another kiss, and Solas decided to give the newly engaged couple a bit of privacy before they returned to Skyhold. He took a seat at one of the tables on the cafe patio and let his eyes wander over the bustling crowd in the market square. The world seemed so much more cheery, the bright pastels and obscured designs of the city and its people finally feeling justified.

He was half in a daydream as he looked out on the square, watching the masked faces of the people melting in and out of the collective market buzz. The sun felt warm on his face and the scent of the cafe lulled him into a sense of peace. All of this ended when he was shattered back into reality by a single sound: laughter. He had only heard it once, but already the sound had a permanent place in the front of his mind. Instinctually his eyes flicked to the source of the sound, and his blood ran cold when his gaze landed on a crown of yellow hair, and winter blue eyes staring right at him.

* * *

**HEY YOU GUYS LIKE FANART?!**

**CAUSE GUESS WHAT I GOT EM!**

**Check out my DeviantArt page to check out my new Dragon Age art, including Solavellan, as well as pics of Lori and Parsey and pics of the kids with their parents!**

**FAVS, FOLLOWS, AND REVIEWS ARE MOST LOVED!**


	9. Chapter 9

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: OKAY SO I KINDA LIED!**

**Ooooh I feel so bad! I really wanted to work on my Homestuck fic (which I REALLY need to work on!) but this fic had just taken over my life right now ^^;**

**So bad news for you guys waiting for the next chapter of "Home is Where your Love is" but good news for all you guys reading "His Homecoming!" :D**

**SHOUTOUTS GO TO: Unorthodox119, cjhull2011, Aspect of Fire, Yami Dragoness of Dark, Baroness Von Queakenstein,**

* * *

Nimwen wanted more sleep. Sadly, the sunlight filtering in through the curtains did not care about this, and went right ahead and aimed its rays directly in her face. With a grumble of irritation, the Inquisitor rolled over and turned her back to the window, trying to return to her comfortable slumber. Try as she might though, it was too late; she was very much awake.

With a sigh the elf unwrapped herself from her cocoon of blankets, sat up, and began her ritual of morning stretches. The bed that she slept in was much firmer than her one back in Skyhold, which was so soft that she practically sunk into it. The firm bed reminded her of when she was back with her clan, when she slept on the ground with just a pile of furs to soften the feeling of hard earth beneath her. Normally she would have liked anything that reminded her of her old life, however after growing used to, and falling in love with, her soft bed and her piles of pillows and blankets, a sore back was one thing that she didn't miss about her clan.

She got out of bed, her feet feeling chill on the wooden floor, and she scanned the room looking for her dressing gown. The room she was staying in at the Ghislain townhouse was barely one-fourth the size of her quarters in Skyhold, but was nicely decorated and was cheerfully lit by the large windows that took up most of the left wall. The bottom half of the walls were panelled with the same wood that made up the floor, and the upper half were painted a light green colour. The room had simple furniture: the bed, a tall pale wooden wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a small writing desk. It was quaint, but Nimwen didn't mind; she actually liked the simple qualities that she rarely encountered since her rise to power.

Upon arriving in Val Royeaux, after the tour of the townhouse, Vivienne had expected Nimwen to take the master bedroom. The elf woman declined though, saying that she'd rather take one of the guest rooms. The reason was that during their tour Nimwen realized that if she stayed in the master bedroom she would be on the opposite side of the house from Lori. Being the protective mother she was, especially since this was Lori's first time away from home, Nimwen wished to sleep closer in case anything was wrong.

Speaking of Lori, Nimwen decided that she should check on the girl and see how she was. Their first night in Val Royeaux had been a challenge. Lori practically bounced off the walls as she investigated the house, running down the hallways with a fretful Nimwen trying to wrangle in the child.

Too lazy to keep looking for her dressing robe, Nimwen left her room clad in just her blue nightgown and walked across the hall to Lori's room. The mage quietly cracked the door open and took a look inside. In the bed that was meant for someone much larger than an elven child, Lori laid still fast asleep, her stuffed nug pressed up under her chin. Her hair was a mess, a testament of how much Lori moved in her sleep, and half of it was spread across her face. Nimwen silently laughed when she noticed a piece of hair in the little girl's mouth, and how she remained oblivious. Getting her to go to sleep had been the most challenging part of the previous day. It was only after a cup of warm milk, a midnight snack of grapes, two separate checks for monsters under the bed and in the closet, and five bedtime stories that the little girl finally fell asleep.

Nimwen sighed, gazing at her sleeping daughter with loving eyes. It felt like just yesterday that Nimwen had been tucking in a small infant into her homemade crib, a gift from Blackwall, and waking up to high pitched cries demanding a diaper change or a nursing. Now that little babe was slowly starting to grow into what would right before her eyes become a functioning adult. The soft undefined edges of infancy had already started to sharpen into distinct features; her almond eyes that shined blue like her mother's, her once chubby cheeks more pronounced in a way that made her look just like her f-

Nimwen breathed in, her eyes downcast.

She watched the silhouette of her daughter fade once more to dark as she quietly shut the door. Nimwen stood in that hall for a moment, resisting the thoughts her mind was trying to conjure up. With a shake of her head, she roused herself from her brooding and decided that she would use this as an opportunity to cook breakfast without being hindered by a hyper toddler running amok.

The kitchen of the townhouse was well stocked with food and the tools to prepare it. Nimwen used magic to light the stove and started cracking eggs into a skillet. She could have brought a servant or two on this trip to tend to the cooking and cleaning of the house, but Nimwen decided to do it herself. She liked the feeling of cooking breakfast for her and her daughter, something she wasn't able to do often back home. While she didn't mind her life as Inquisitor, she feared that sometimes it limited her ability to be a mother. She heard the stories of human nobles being raised almost entirely by the help, and how many times they barely saw their parents. When Lori was born and one of the maids offered to take the baby to a wet-nurse, Nimwen was so horrified that she screamed for the maid to get out. She vowed that she would do everything in her power to make sure that not only was she a mother to her child, but that Lori would grow up just like any other child, despite the fact that she was the Inquisitor's daughter and that she didn't have a f-

Nimwen cracked the egg against the counter and used her fingers to rip the shell apart, letting the yoke ooze out into the pan. She threw the eggshells into the garbage and started chopping up some mushrooms. The sound of the eggs cooking and the steam wafting from the pan made Nimwen smile to herself. She found that she liked the domestic feeling this little vacation gave her, and she could almost pretend what it would have been like had she been just a normal elf.

"I never knew you could cook."

Nimwen turned around as Vivienne entered the room. Even though it was early, Nimwen was still surprised to see the enchantress in a silk lilac dressing robe and matching purple slippers.

"I never knew you could dress casual," Nimwen quipped back.

Vivienne smirked as she slid into one of the stools next to the kitchen island.

"I'm not always dressed to the nines, darling."

Nimwen snorted.

"Uh-huh, sure thing Viv."

"Well not this early at least, and especially while on holiday. And besides, I won't be scandalized by you seeing me without my makeup on."

"I don't know whether I should be flattered or insulted."

"Whatever suits you and lets me have whatever it is you're cooking."

The elf rolled her eyes and returned to her cooking.

"We ate this back in my clan," she explained.

"It was considered a treat if you could find a bird's nest with enough eggs big enough to make a meal out of. We cooked them with mushrooms found in the woods and whatever meat and vegetables we could find. They were pretty good, of course we didn't have all these fancy human cheeses," Nimwen said as she sprinkled a handful of cheese onto the eggs.

"Plus there are all these spices here that I have no idea what to do with."

"Best to just leave those alone for now darling. Don't want you killing us with cumin or nutmeg," said Vivienne as she watched the elf add in the mushrooms.

"Who would have guessed the Inquisitor was a chef at heart?"

Nimwen laughed.

"The Keeper used to say that I was the best cook in the clan, but that's not really saying much; Dalish tend to keep our food pretty simple, and if you can keep from burning it and it doesn't kill you, you're considered a good cook."

The sound of tiny feet came pattering down the hall, signalling that a certain elfling had risen from her slumber. Lori shuffled into the kitchen dragging her nug behind her by its ear. She shambled into the kitchen with the same gait of an undead as she rubbed the sleep from her heavy lidded eyes.

"Good morning, Dalen," Nimwen said gently.

"Smells yummy," the little girl mumbled as she let out a big yawn.

"It should be ready in a few minutes," Nimwen told her.

"For Maker's sake child, what did you do to your hair?" Vivienne moaned.

Antivan politics were more orderly than the state of Lori's hair. It was a rat's nest, the once wavy locks now a frizzy mess of sleep tangled hair that stuck up every which way and hung in front of half of her face; not that the sleepy child cared of course.

"Nothin'," the girl mumbled as she tried pushing some of her hair out of her face, which ended up with her struggling to get her fingers out of a knot.

"Vivienne please help her," Nimwen chuckled as she watched Lori flailing to free her hand from her hair with her tongue poking out in concentration.

"Come here," Vivienne sighed as she lifted the elf girl onto her lap.

"There," she said when she untangled the child's fingers from her own hair.

"Now sit still why I try and fix this disaster."

"Nooooo," Lori groaned.

"Lori listen to your aunt Vivienne or you won't get any juice with your breakfast," the Dalish woman warned.

Though she pouted the whole time, Lori obeyed and sat still as Vivienne worked to untangle Lori's hair with the comb she had brandished seemingly out of nowhere. She acted out only once when a tug on a particularly nasty tangle had the girl screeching and trying to run away. One stern look from her mother and the child became quiet, grumbling to herself while Vivienne gingerly combed out the knot. By the time Nimwen cooking and was setting the table the enchantress had tamed the chaos atop Lori's head into something that actually resembled hair.

"Take a break you two and let's eat," said Nimwen. Instead of eating in the fancy dining room, the three women ate at the small wooden table in the corner of the kitchen.

"Thanks for that Vivienne," Nimwen said between bites of egg.

"Between her and Parsey, there is more hair related madness than a Halamshiral wig shop," Vivienne replied with a grimace.

"Don't cut my hair!" Lori pleaded, holding the top her head like somebody was going to take her hair away.

"Nobody is cutting your hair, Dalen," Nimwen reassured the child.

"It wouldn't hurt to get it trimmed," Vivienne pointed out.

"Well Lori is afraid of getting her hair cut, and if she wants to keep it long I see no problem with it. I would have loved to have long hair like that growing up," Nimwen said, her fingers stroking her shoulder length hair.

"Why didn't you?"

"It just wasn't practical. Dalish hunters usually kept their hair short or else it would get caught in a tree branch or get in their face during a chase. For me the chance of my hair catching on fire or accidentally getting into some deadly concoction made long hair a bit of a burden," Nimwen explained.

"Mama needs to get long hair," Lori declared with a mouthful of eggs. Nimwen chuckled.

"And why is that dear?"

"So you can give some to aunt Viv, cuz she doesn't have any and that's why she needs hats."

As the enchantress sputtered, nearly spitting out her drink, Nimwen howled with laughter. The utterly scandalized look on Vivienne's face made the Inquisitor laugh even harder.

"What?" Lori asked innocently, her head cocked in confusion.

"Nothing, Dalen, just finish your food," Nimwen said between laughs.

Though still confused, the little girl went back to her breakfast, and as she gulped down her glass of peach juice, she failed to notice the sly smirk her mother was giving Vivienne, nor the red tint to the enchantress' cheeks.

As they finished up their food, Nimwen talked with Vivienne about their plans over the next three weeks.

"So we won't be seeing this seamstress until next week?" asked Nimwen.

"Correct. Madame Bonfoy has been the best dressmaker in Val Royeaux for over fifty years, which unfortunately means that and even for me it was a challenge trying to make an appointment."

"Wasn't she the one who made my gown for the ball at the Winter Palace?"

"Yes she was. The only reason I was able to get an appointment at such short notice was that she owed me a favour. The opportunity to once again make something for the Inquisitor is most likely the reason I was able to make an appointment close to Lori's birthday."

"So I suppose we should find ways to entertain ourselves in the meantime," said Nimwen.

"Indeed, so what would you like to do?"

"I was thinking we could just walk around the city and look at the shops; shops that aren't for weapons or armour to be exact. Since I only ever come here to meet with people, I have actually not seen much of the city," Nimwen admitted.

"I suppose that's a good way to start out this holiday. A stroll around the market is always an enjoyable time," said Vivienne.

"And we have you to guide us to the best places," Nimwen said with a grin.

With their plan set out, the women cleaned up the kitchen and then readied themselves for a day on the town.

Since she practically lived in her armour and robes, Nimwen was going to use this holiday as the chance to don the small collection of dresses she so rarely had the chance to use. This day it was one of her favourites; a comfortable dress made of powder blue satin. Along with its flattering scoop neckline and frilled capped sleeves, the garment It was loose and hung from her elegantly like the sails of a ship, except where it was cinched close to her waist with a dark blue sash that matched the colour of the Valaslin on her forehead. The ankle-length skirt was cut higher near her left side, where there was a slit that reached her knee.

Nimwen frowned at her feet as she put on the pair of strappy gold sandals that went with the dress. Her small feet were covered in little scars and healed over blisters and callouses, evidence of a lifetime of traversing the wilderness barefoot, and more recently in heavy combat boots. Personally Nimwen would rather wear shoes that wouldn't leave her feet open to noble scrutiny, but the fashion-forward Vivienne would never let it go if she went out in clunky boots with her dress.

When she joined Vivienne and Lori in the foyer she was pleased to see that, after protesting that she was capable of dressing herself, the young elf was wearing an outfit suitable for public.

"Look mama I pick this all by my own!" Lori said proudly as she twirled around in her light green dress.

"Good job sweetheart," Nimwen replied.

"However I think you're missing something."

After a great battle Nimwen managed to wrangle the child into a pair of brown ankle high boots, double-tying them in case the girl attempted to take them off in public. Vivienne started to braid the girl's hair, and while she did this, Nimwen decided to go over some things with the child about the city.

"Now Lori," Nimwen said, kneeling down in front of the girl.

"What I'm about to tell you is VERY important, so I need you to pay attention, okay?"

"Okay," Lori nodded.

"Alright, now remember, Val Royeaux is a really neat place to be in and I hope you have fun here, but it's also REALLY big, much bigger than Skyhold. There are a lot of people here and the crowds can get big, do you understand that?"

"Uh-huh," said the girl.

"Good, so, while we are out you need to make sure that you don't get separated from us, and always be sure that you can see either me or aunt Viv."

"What if I can't see you?"

"If you get lost I want you to go straight to a guard, they're the ones with the shiny armour remember? I want you to find one and tell them your name, that you are lost, and that you are my daughter. Do you remember what my other name is Dalen?"

"They call you the 'quiz-sitter!" Lori said proudly. Nimwen chuckled at the butchering of her title.

"Very good, and do you know our last name?"

"Le-Levellan?"

"That's right. Alright, right now I want you to pretend that you are lost and I'm a guard. What do you say to me?"

"My name's Lori and I'm lost and 'quiz-sitter Levellan is my mama," Lori recited.

"Good girl," Nimwen smiled.

"Now, one more thing and this is REALLY important. Do not, I repeat, do not talk to strangers unless I or aunt Viv say it's okay, and if one talks to you, you need to tell me alright?"

"Why?"

"Because this isn't Skyhold, and nobody here knows who you are. They might not be a very nice person and they might want to do something bad. If somebody asks you to go with them, get away and look for me, aunt Viv, or a guard, alright?"

"Alright," the girl nodded.

"Good." Nimwen gave the little girl a kiss on the nose.

"I want you to have fun, but I also want you to be safe."

The Dalish looked up at Vivienne.

"Almost ready?" she asked.

"Just about...there we go," said the enchantress as she tied the ribbon to the end of Lori's braid.

"All set."

"Okay, let's go," Nimwen said enthusiastically. She held Lori's hand and the three women left the townhouse and got ready for their day out.

They spent the morning enjoying the smaller crowds as Vivienne guided them around to the better shops and sights. Lori's eyes were continuously lit up in excitement and curiosity, the child having never been surrounded by so many new and strange things before. At first the sight of all the people in strange masks had intimidated her, but after her mother explained what they were for and assured her they were nothing to be feared, she eventually got over her nervousness and began to point out every mask that caught her eye along with every other thing that she found interesting.

Nimwen had to work to make sure the toddler stayed in line: keep her from running ahead, running into people, knocking things over, and every other problem the Inquisitor knew she would be dealing with when she decided to unleash her child onto the public. Despite the hassle, Nimwen was content at seeing her daughter so happy and enjoying the city, happiness the elder elf had not shared on her first trip to Val Royeaux.

As they passed by a pastel pink building, Nimwen's nose wrinkled up at the obnoxiously sweet smell that hit her like a cloud.

"What is that?" she asked Vivienne as she covered her nose from the perfume.

"Oh, we must have passed by the spa," said the enchantress. She breathed in the scent unbothered unlike Nimwen.

"Ah it's been ages since I've had a soak in the baths. We must take a visit there before we go."

"Spa? What's a spa? You mentioned baths, so is it a place where people clean themselves?"

"Not quite dear. You see, spas are places where people, mostly highborn ladies, go for treatments that are both cosmetic and for relaxation. The baths I mentioned are something of an artificial hot springs; they're large pools with enchantments to keep the water hot. There are also massages, certain wraps and facial treatments meant to ward off wrinkles and other undesirable traits, and various other treatments to keep a lady at her best."

Vivienne looked at the Inquisitor.

"Does that explain it?"

Nimwen looked like she was debating it.

"Back with my clan there was this stream with these little fish in them, and if you stuck your feet in the water the fish would eat all the dead skin and fungus off. Is it kind of like that?"

Nimwen cocked her head when Vivienne gave her a strange look.

"What is it?"

"N-nothing dear. Sometimes I just forget that you are Dalish."

The trio happened upon a small square where a variety of street performers were busy entertaining onlookers. Lori quickly became enraptured with the scene, and the two women settled onto a bench as Lori watched the colourful performers.

"Look at him mama!" Lori squealed as her little finger pointed to a harlequin juggling numerous pins.

"He's amazing!"

"He sure is, Dalen," Nimwen replied while looking at the harlequin warily. Her past experience with men dressed like harlequins left her with a permanent aversion to them. However she kept telling herself that these ones carried juggling pins and not an assassin's daggers.

The attention of the three women was caught when the sound of flutes and drums filled the air and they turned to see the source.

A band of mostly Rivaini musicians had begun playing, and they were dressed in bright oranges and reds and adorned with multi-coloured scarves and beads in their hair. As the tune continued, a man playing a lute stepped forward and began to sing.

_On a fine evening fair in the month of Cloudreach_

_Over the hill came the sun with a smile,_

_And the folks they were throngin' the roads everywhere,_

_Makin' haste to be in at the Amaranthine Fair._

An elven woman with a drum on her hip stepped forward and joined in.

_I've seen 'em a-comin' from mountains and glens,_

_Those rosy-faced lasses and strappin' young men,_

_With a joy in their heart and unburdened of care,_

_A-meetin' old friends at the Amaranthine Fair._

"I wanna watch!" Lori said as she tugged on her mother's hand. Nimwen laughed and turned back to smirk at Vivienne as she was dragged by the toddler from their bench and over to the band, just as the man and woman began to sing together in the chorus.

_Whoever joined our gathering,_

_and danced under the garlands green,_

_will never be the same again._

_Now rest your head and stay awhile,_

_and dwell with us the summer's night,_

_and you'll never be the same again._

One of the band members began to play a solo on his bagpipes while the singers twirled and danced to the bleating notes, he strumming on his lute and she playing her drum. Lori wiggled excitedly in place, her attempt at dancing, and Nimwen observed with amusement, as well as joy that her daughter was so happy.

"Lady Vivienne?"

Nimwen turned around and saw a woman coming towards them. She wore a typical Orleasian gown with a bustling purple skirt and a white mask with a heart-shaped red mouth.

"Ah Lady Indila, so good to see you," Vivienne said with a smile.

"It has been so long. What are you doing back in the city?" asked Lady Indila.

"Oh I have an appointment with Madame Bonfoy for the Inquisitor," the mage explained, gesturing to Nimwen.

The elf heard the lady gasp behind her mask.

"Inquisitor Levellan, that is you?"

"That is me," Nimwen said.

_There are lads for the lasses, there are toys for the bairns,_

_Jugglers and tumblers and folks with no arms,_

_There's a ballad-singer here and a fiddler there,_

_Nut-men and spice-men at Amaranthine Fair._

"I should have known, nobody but Madame de Hiver would be wearing something daring as that," Indila said, gesturing to Nimwen's dress. Nimwen blushed at the use of the nickname the Empress' court had given her during the ball at the Winter Palace. She had made quite the impression on the nobles not only for being a being a Dalish elf, but also for her choice of garb. She had immediately refused to wear one of the traditional Orleasian gowns, and instead modified it to suit both her personal tastes and her status as an elf. The end result was a gown without the standard hoop skirt or tight fitted corset, and instead was a flowing gown of silver lace and blue silk that flowed like water as she moved. That, and the demonstration of her frost magic when confronting Lady Floriane, resulted in her being dubbed the Lady of Winter.

"You are too kind," the elf replied.

"Many still speak of your attire at the Winter ball, even now. Designers have been vying for a chance to ask you about your gowns, and how you are so boldly going against the trends."

Nimwen blushed.

"My lady you give me too much credit. I'm no designer. My people tend to prefer clothes that are easier to move in, as well I need to be ready to respond to threats at any moment, and cumbersome gowns don't help that. No offense."

"None taken," replied Indila.

_There are peddlers and potters and gingerbread stands,_

_Peepshows and popping-darts and green caravans,_

_There's fruit from all nations exhibited there,_

_With kale plants from Orange at Amaranthine Fair._

"So you are going to see Madame Bonfoy?"

"Yes, Vivienne said she was the best," Nimwen said.

"It's for my daughter. We want to get her some new dresses for her birthday, she right here actually. Dalen, say hello to Lady Indila-"

Nimwen's heart stopped when she looked down and Lori was not there.

"Lori?" The elf looked to see if the child had merely moved to get a closer look at the singers, but she could not see the young elf in the audience.

"Vivienne where's Lori?"

"I don't know, she was here a minute ago," the enchantress replied as she started scanning the crowd.

"Lori?!"

Nimwen was getting looks but the Dalish couldn't care less as she started scouring the crowd looking for the girl.

"Lori where are you?!" Nimwen yelled, panic settling in.

_Whoever joined our gathering_

_and danced under the garlands green_

_will never be the same again_

_Now rest your head and stay awhile_

_and dwell with us the summer's night_

_and you'll never be the same again_

"Creators no. No, no, no, no…" Fear unlike any she had felt before infected her mind. Nimwen ran around the square, her skirt swishing around her as she searched desperately for her little girl.

"Lorien Levellan come here right now!" Nimwen screamed, her voice coming out frightened instead of angry like she meant it to be. She was stopped when Vivienne grabbed her wrist.

"Dear she's not here," the enchantress said grimly.

_You came a long way, you travelled for so long._

_Now rest your head before the summer's gone,_

_Meet us in the sunny fields and meet us in the greenwood deep_

_And step in our faerie ring 'cause you'll never ever ever be the same again._

"How could this have happened? I looked away for one second! We need to find her Viv!" Nimwen cried. "She could have gone anywhere, or-or somebody could have taken her!"

Nimwen gripped her hair, a small keening noise coming from her mouth.

"Oh Creators what if someone has kidnapped her to get to me? What if-?'

"Inquisitor you need to remain calm," Vivienne instructed the frantic elf.

"You breaking down will get us nowhere. Now, she couldn't have gotten far, and only a fool would grab a child in broad daylight. First we shall alert the guards and have them keep an eye out for her. In the meantime, she might have wanted to go back to that sweets shop we passed by."

"Maybe," Nimwen sighed.

"Oh Creators, my baby," Nimwen whispered, her face sorrow stained.

"Stay strong darling, we will find her," Vivienne reassured her friend.

The two women, one distraught, the other supportive, began looking for the nearest guard to whom they could report the disappearance of the girl. Being the Inquisitor, Nimwen knew that the guards would be foolish not to aid in the search. But regardless, Nimwen felt a pit in her chest that she knew would not be sealed until she had her little girl in her arms once more.

_When the hiring is over, off they all sprang_

_Into the ballroom for to join in the throng,_

_And "I Never Will Lie With My Mammy Nae Mair"_

_The fiddles play briskly at Amaranthine Fair._

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****OH DEAR!**

**I hope the length of this chapter wasn't too much. I remember people were saying that the last chapter with just Nimwen and Lori was a bit of a bore, but I hope that was just because it was short. I really wanted to get some more interactions with Nim and Lori, along with some character building for Nimwen herself. I really grew to love Nimwen's character while playing DA:I and I have so many headcanons and little quirks about her that I want to portray, in order to really make her seem like a real character and make this not just a Solas/OC fic if you get me.**

**Also, that whole thing with Nimwen's choice of dress and the thing with her being called Madame de Hiver, I had an idea for a little one-shot fic focusing on the Ball that would go into that whole deal, and if you guys would be interested in that let me know!**

**ALSO: the song the minstrels were singing is called "The Market Song" and is a song by the German pagan folk band Faun. I love this band and feel there music totally fits in the world of DA, I of course though changed a few words around in order for it to work in Thedas, but look up the original song to hear its awesomeness!**


	10. Chapter 10

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****I'M BACK AGAIN LADIES, GENTLEMAN, AND SQUIDS!**

**Now that I am free from the jaws of schooling, I shall be able to get through more chapters than Sera goes through arrows. That is, if I am not distracted by 24 hour Sims 3 sessions, Skyrim, and Netflix (True threats mind you)**

**But fear not loyal readers! I am determined to post at least once every two weeks, and I don't I encourage you to spam me with messages of shame to guilt me into writing (seriously feel free to call me out on my procrastinating foolishness)**

**ALSO SPECIAL SHOUT-OUT TO THE ONE AND ONLY "FLAMEWING80" This lovely penguin has been such a help to me, giving me great advice, being an excellent confidant, and also being a great friend. Check out their amazing Dragon Age fic "Final Hour" for some excellent writing and one of the greatest depictions of Solas ever. Seriously. Go read.**

**SHOUT-OUTS TO: ****BeckyBoo12221, Leman of the Russ , morgan1yam SqueakyTiki, Silvanna Nightlight, Hirdas, Smugget, MistressofDawn1990, bitter-alisa, Narya's Bane, shoplifterette, Xandra-A, Optimist Prime-Negatron, Kibetha, K.L. Clarion, Halfbad2311, and everyone else who has faved, followed, and supported this story, you guys rock!**

**Any who, on with the story!**

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'

Lori sighed.

_'This is boring,'_ she thought to herself. She hated it when mama had to talk with one of her grown-up friends. In her opinion, adults talked way too long, and it was always about boring things that Lori couldn't care less about. She looked back to the musicians playing, the song still quite jovial, and she watched in wonder at the colourful performers. This whole day had been a sensory overload for her, so many things to see, hear, and hopefully taste. Her eyes began to wander around the rest of the plaza, trying to take in everything until something in particular caught her eye.

Close to where the musicians were was a tolerably gaudy looking store painted a cheerful rose colour with long red ribbons strung on either side of the door. The sign above the door had words written in elegant swooping letters; she couldn't read the name of the store since she was still learning to read, but even if she could the name was Orleasian. Next to the door was a large window that took up most of the wall displaying a variety of porcelain dolls. Lori had many dolls, most of them stuffed animals, and a couple of rag dolls she'd worn out over time, but she'd never seen dolls like these. As she gazed over them Lori's eyes widened when she spotted, in the center of the display, the most beautiful doll she had ever seen.

Even from a distance, Lori could see the detail in every feature on the doll; the shine of its porcelain white skin, the pink blush painted onto its cheeks, and its ruby lips. The doll was wearing a little purple ball gown with lace and bows all along the skirt, and a silver tiara with purple stone in the middle.

_'She's got the same hair as me!' _Lori thought excitedly, noting the doll's long coiled yellow hair. So excited, Lori looked up at her mama, wanting to tell her about the doll. Both she and aunt Viv were still talking to the masked lady, and it didn't seem like they were going to stop anytime soon, which made Lori pout. Every time there was a pause in their conversation she would try to speak up, but she was always cut off before she could even get in a word. She knew that if she tried to get her mother's attention the older elf would just tell her not to interrupt her while she's talking, and if she tried it more than once her mother would get irritated and wouldn't let her get the doll at all. It had happened earlier when they passed by a sweet's shop and Lori was eager to venture inside, but she kept on pestering her mother while the two mages were talking, and so her mother told her that they would go in later. Lori though not even three yet, was a smart child, and knew that a similar fate awaited her now if she tried to butt in.

That just wouldn't do!

Lori looked back to the doll shop, the yellow haired doll staring back at her almost tauntingly. The child was thinking about just waiting until mama stopped talking so that she could tell her about the doll, that is, until she saw a woman with two little girls walk into the shop. Suddenly Lori began to worry.

What if those girls wanted that doll? What if by the time mama finished talking the doll was already going home with some other girl!? The wheels in her head began to turn as she tried to think about what to do.

'_I could just go over and get the doll,'_ Lori thought to herself. Yes of course! In order to keep those other girls away from her doll, she could just grab it and wait with it until her mama was done talking and could pay for it. However, she remembered what mama had told her about wandering off, and her plan felt deflated.

'_But it's not like I'd get lost,'_ she reasoned to herself. It made sense. Mama had said that Lori should never not be able to see where she or aunt Viv were, but the store was just over there, and she knew where mama and aunt Viv were, and it wasn't like they were going anywhere anytime soon. If she just popped out for a minute and came right back it would be okay! Woe be to those who succumbed to the reasoning of a longing child.

Putting her plan into action, she looked up at her mama and aunt Viv trying her best to look unassuming. She saw that both women were both still occupied with the masked lady, so the little girl silently began to sneak away. She kept her eyes on her mama as she slowly slipped away, ready to zip back to her side in case she looked down. As soon as she was out of her mother's immediate gaze, she turned and ran as fast as she could to the store entrance, feeling every bit like one of the Red Jennies in one of aunt Sera's stories.

With a satisfied smirk on her face Lori pushed the door open with all her might, and heard a bell chime as she toddled in. The inside of the shop was much cooler compared to the balmy weather outside, and the air smelled of cinnamon from the candle burning on the counter. The shop screamed finery, just like everything else in Val Royeaux, and the walls were painted a rich ruby red which complemented the gold coloured carpet. As she looked around, Lori's blue eyes widened and she let out a whispered "Wow," at the sight the variety of dolls lining the shelves and stands throughout the shop.

The soon-to-be three year old had never really thought much of fine clothes and frilly dresses, mostly because they usually ended up covered in grass stains or dirt; as well her mother tried her best not to have her daughter be wrapped up in the complicated world of human nobles, not that the child knew about that. However, her face lit up at the beautiful clothing adorning the porcelain girls, fine dresses and skirts that looked like they should have belonged on a noble lady, instead of her daughter's toys.

Once she recovered from the initial wonder, Lori made a beeline for the window display and looked for the yellow haired doll. Even with its back turned, Lori recognized the purple dress she'd seen the doll was wearing, and went to grab it. The little girl stood up on her tiptoes and stretched her arm up, trying to take hold of the doll. Unfortunately for her, her age and race were making very hard for her to reach the object of her desire, and she was only able to graze the bottom of the doll's skirt.

"Just what do you think you are doing?"

Lori squeaked and lost her balance, falling on her rear. She looked up and saw a moustached man staring down at her behind a half mask. Whether or not he was the doll maker or just the shopkeeper, she didn't know. All she knew was that he was looking down at her with a suspicion that made her very nervous.

"I-I want that one," Lori stuttered pointing to the doll.

"I see. Do you have coin?" the man asked.

"N-no-"

"Where are your parents?"

"I uh, m-mama's talking with the lady by the fountain and I wanna show her the doll and-

"You must be foolish if you think I'm going to let you steal one of my dolls."

"B-but I'm not gonna steal it! I just wanna keep until mama's done talkin-"

"You cannot take the doll outside unless you pay for it."

"But I wanna show mama-"

"Bring your mother _here_ girl, I can't have people taking dolls outside the shop without paying for them."

Lori pouted, ready to argue more, but the man walked away. Lori would have just taken the doll anyway, but given that she couldn't even reach it, she realized that her plan was not going to be as simple as she thought it would be. Her ears perked up when the elf girl heard hushed voices and she noticed that the two girls from before were shifting glances at her. The two girls looked to be sisters, having the same dark brown hair and brown eyes, and were dressed in miniature versions of the gowns worn by the Orleasian noble ladies. Lori was confused by the way they looked at her, like she was some sort of oddity, which she didn't understand. She pretended like she couldn't hear them, but unfortunately for her, elves had better hearing than most people were aware of, and so she was able to hear their whispers.

"Do you see that girl, Claudia?" one of the girls, who appeared to be the older one, around eight, whispered.

"What you mean?" the other girl, Claudia, asked.

"What's _she _doing in here?"

Lori frowned. What were they talking about? Puzzled, the child continued to pretend to look at dolls, not touching them of course, as she listened in on the sisters' conversation.

"What are you talking about, Colette?"

The girl, Colette, rolled her eyes at her younger sister, who looked about five years old.

"Why would an _elf_ girl be in here?"

Lori didn't like how that Colette girl said 'elf'. She said it as if it was a bad word, but why?

"Maybe she's a servant, or a servant's child?" Claudia suggested.

That made Lori bristle, and she spun around and stomped over to them.

"Excuse me, but not a servant, and my mama isn't one neither" she clarified to them.

At first the two noble girls looked at her in shock, before the elder of the two raised a brow in suspicion.

"How did you hear us, were you eavesdropping on us?"

"Nuh-uh. I wasn't doin' that. I could just hear you two."

"Lier, you couldn't hear us from over there! You were spying you little sneak!"

That made Lori's face go red with anger, and she puffed up as she glared at the older girl.

"I'm not a sneak! Stop being mean!"

That made Colette scowl down at the shorter girl.

"Who are you to speak to us that way?" demanded the girl. "Why are you even still here after you tried stealing that doll?"

"I didn't try stealin' it!" Lori denied.

"Yeah you did, because that's what all _you_ people do,"

"What do you mean?" Lori asked confused.

"C-Colette let's go," Claudia said nervously, tugging on her sister's skirt.

The older girl sneered, ignoring her little sister.

"Don't you know? My mummy says that all knife-ears are thieves."

Lori gasped.

"T-take that back," the yellow haired girl stammered, her lip beginning to quiver. She knew what that word meant, despite her mom's best efforts to keep her far away from that terrible name.

"Why, what are you going to do, knife-ear thief?" Colette spat.

"Take that back!" Lori screamed as she lunged at the girl.

"Get away from me you freak!" Colette cried as she tried shoving the elven girl off of her. Even though she was small, Lori was a rabid storm, pulling on the human girl's hair and yanking it out of its perfect bun.

"S-stop that! M-mummy!" Claudia cried out.

"Maker's breath!"

Lori squealed when someone yanked on her braid, ripping her away from the noble girl. She was thrown to the floor, skinning her elbow on the carpet, and when she looked up, an older lady who appeared to be the girls' mother was staring down at her from behind her mask.

"How dare you, you filthy little pest," she hissed as she ushered her daughters behind her. Wincing at the acidic tone in the woman's voice, Lori began to scoot away while holding her stinging elbow.

"I should have you flogged for that!" the woman screamed.

As Lori whimpered she heard somebody walk up behind her.

"Madame please be reasonable, she is only a child," the shop keeper pleaded.

"Knife-ears need to know their place, starting young," the noblewoman insisted, her voice venomous.

Lori tore her gaze away from the woman and back to the two girls. Claudia was looking at her with part fear and what could have been sympathy, but it was the arrogant sneer of Colette that made a chill go down Lori's spine.

Before anything else was said Lori was running out of the shop, her face red and her eyes full of tears.

"Mama!" she cried. She no longer cared about the doll or getting in trouble, she just wanted her mama to hold her and save her from the lady and her nasty daughters. As she rushed back to the fountain, her eyes widened when she realized that mama and aunt Viv were gone.

Lori looked around, thinking maybe they had just moved, but she couldn't see them anywhere. Fear began building up as she scanned around looking for her mother but she could not locate her.

"M-mama?" she stammered. "Aunt Viv?"

Her head darted back and forth trying to find her mother in hopes that she could reunite with them before it was too late. Panic began to settle in as she realized that neither her mother nor aunt Viv were anywhere to be seen.

She began to run down the street, her eyes peeled for her mother's bright blue dress or aunt Viv's pointed hat. In the back of her mind she knew that she should have looked for a guard like mama told her to, but then she would know that she snuck away, and then she'd be in trouble.

She ran around trying to see passed all the strange looking people, but she couldn't even see above their knees. It became harder to see as more tears welled up in her eyes and soon she had retreated to an isolated corner, where the gravity of her situation had finally settled on her small shoulders. Hope drained from her, only to be replaced by an overwhelming wave of loneliness and despair. She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, thin arms wrapped around her shins.

"M-mama," she wept into her knees. It didn't occur to her that she was getting her pretty dress all dirty, or that her elbow was still bleeding and stinging. In the middle of the great city of Val Royeaux, the little elven girl felt very much alone.

"My oh my, what have my eyes just seen? A sad little girl, clad in green?"

With a jump of surprise, a confused Lori peered up at the figure now looming over her.

"Who-who are you?" she asked with a cocked head.

"Who am I? Now that's the question! Just like how am I to cure a young girl's depression?"

Lori giggled, even with the tears still on her face.

"You talk funny," she said, wiping off her face.

Black painted lips spread into a grin, and ghostly blue eyes gleamed down at the child mischievously.

"Indeed, the funny man I am, old Bellamy of Vellanan. Care to have a laugh with me, Miss Lorien Lavellan?"

'

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****DUNDUNDUUUUUUUUH~**

***Insert George Takei voice* Oh my!**

**What's gonna happen to Lori? Who is that guy? What's another random question? All shall be answered (maybe) in the next chapter! Stay tuned!**

**Reviews are love!**


	11. Chapter 11

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****HEY WASSUP? Told y'all I'd be back! Sorry it took a little while. I just had my wisdom teeth out and so I had to edit this thing while on some wicked sedatives, but I did it, and all for you guys!**

**SHOUT-OUTS GO OUT TO****: kwiksilvr, The Other Person, DemonDragon000, Persefonie, as well as everyone else who has been faving, following, and reading this fic. You guys are my awesome sauce squad! Anywho on with the story!**

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The mage's eyes had connected with hers for a mere second before he jumped out of his seat. With great speed Solas darted behind a pillar as his heart threatened to pound right out of his chest. He dared to peek out from behind his hiding place, to see if those eyes were still on him. As luck would have it, he had not been spotted; rather she had merely been glancing in his direction, but not on him specifically. Now her gaze was focused elsewhere, and all Solas could do was stare at her. As he gazed upon his daughter for the third time since discovering her, he still wondered to himself how this beautiful girl was his. He also wondered how he could be so stupid as to go with Blackwall to Val Royeaux, forgetting that Nimwen and Lori were there as well. But most of all, he wondered who the hell that man was and why he was talking to Lori.

Trying to remain unseen, Solas crept closer trying to see what was going on. The man looked like a deranged jester who had been drained of colour. He wore a motley coat made up of black and white cheques with a frilled white collar that clung to his neck, pants with one leg white and one leg black, and curled black winklepicker shoes with a bell on each end. His four tipped cap n' bells hat was white with black bells at the end of each tip. His face was painted a startling shade of white juxtaposed by his black painted lips, and the two thin black lines that were painted from his brow down to his cheeks like midnight scars.

Solas needed just one moment to look at this man before he felt his hackles rising. Every part of this monochrome creature screamed unease. Despite this, Lori seemed unfazed by the eerie man, smiling and giggling to whatever he was saying. Solas' instincts were immediately on edge, and his temper flared at the cat-like smile that spread across the jester's lips.

_'Where is Nimwen?!'_ he thought angrily to himself. Why was Lori alone in the middle of Val Royeaux? Solas wanted nothing more than to march over there and spirit his daughter away from that deranged jester, but he knew that if he did so that he would be ruining any chance he had of repairing his damaged relationship with Nimwen and any chance of having one with Lori.

As he debated with himself, he saw the jester lean down to whisper something into Lori's ear, and that was the final straw. Though he was no ice mage, he had learned many tricks from Nimwen, and thus was able to quickly create a simple half-mask made of ice. It felt cold as he pressed it to his face, but he could see through it and it hid his face, and that's all that mattered.

He strode over to Lori and the jester, and he quickened his pace when he saw the jester hand something to her.

"Excuse me," he said, trying to make his voice sound different. The jester looked up and frowned when he saw the older elf. Up close Solas noticed the jester's eyes. They were an icy blue, almost white. They looked at him in a seemingly amused manner, but behind it Solas could detect suspicion.

"Greetings kind sir," asked the jester in a shrill creaking voice.

"Greetings to you," Solas said behind gritted teeth. "Might I ask what you are doing with this girl?"

The jester had a smile on his face that made Solas' skin crawl.

"I was keeping the child company, I'll have you know. Why is the elf so curious though?"

"Thank you for that, but I believe that you are done here," said Solas, stepping behind Lori.

The jester looked from the younger elf to the older one, his eyes squinted in suspicion.

"You are _done _here," Solas repeated, this time no longer trying to hide the warning in his voice. The jester's eyes widened. Whether it was that he recognized the blood between the two elves, or the danger emanating from the mage, it was clear he knew he was no longer welcome.

"Very well." Though his face remained level, his voice was sour. He looked down at Lori and gave her a smile that made Solas have to consciously not set the creature on fire.

"Another time perhaps, little dove. Just remember what comes from above," he said as he waltzed away, the bells on his hat chiming with every step.

"Wait! Bellamy!" Lori cried out to the retreating jester. She began to run off after him but before she could, Solas reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Let go!" she screamed, trying to yank her arm out of Solas' grip.

"You can't go after him," Solas said. The child stopped her squirming and instead turned to pout angrily up at Solas.

"Why'd you make him leave?" she demanded the mage tell her.

Solas felt frozen. This was the first time Lori had ever spoken to him, and he felt like his tongue had swollen up. She looked up at him with those big blue eyes, and she looked so much like her mother that it was startling.

"Why are you alone? Where is your mother?" he blurted out. This was a start, and what Solas really wanted to know. He still couldn't believe that Lori was by herself in this city.

The glare on the child's face fell and the mage felt his heart drop when tears began to well up in her eyes followed by her sniffling.

"What's wrong?" Solas asked as he bent to his knee, now level with the girl.

The sniffling continued to grow, until she began crying as the tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I-I was b-b-bad!" she sputtered between sobs. "I-I-I wanted t-t-to see the pretty dolls but-but mama was talkin' s-so I left and the man was mean to m-me and the lady and the-the girls c-called me knife-ear and when I c-c-came back mama and aunt Viv were gone! And now I-I'm lost and mama'll be-be m-mad and…"

The rest of her words dissolved into incoherent babbling between her sobs, so hard that her whole body was shaking. Solas had no idea what to do. He felt the familiar sensation of being watched, and as he looked around he noticed that they had gained a bit of attention from onlookers.

"Come on, _da'len_, let's go over here," he said gently, taking her hand. Lori shook her head.

"Mama said I can't go with strangers!" she yelled, tugging on his hand.

Solas felt his heart clench. He was but a stranger to her; her, his own daughter. He wanted to tell her the truth, that he was no stranger, but the father who was three years late, but ready to make up for it. Instead, he put on yet another mask.

"I'm one of your mama's agents," Solas lied. Lori looked up, her face red and covered in tears and snot.

"Y-you are?" she sniffled.

"Yes."

"Prove it."

Solas smiled. His girl was clever.

"How should I prove I've worked with your mama?"

Lori pursed her lips, thinking.

"What's mama's favourite colour?"

"Blue."

"What kinda bug does she think is icky?"

"As I recall, she hates spiders."

"Yup, she _really _hates spiders. I like bugs, but I don't like them, they're scary."

"I agree. Now, do you believe I'm one of your mother's agents?"

Lori nodded.

"Good, now let's go over here where you can calm down," Solas said, pointing to a table under the cafe awning. He stood, brushed himself off, and reached out to take her hand. Imagine his surprise when instead of taking his hand, he saw her looking up at him with asking blue eyes as she held her arms out to him. At first he was hesitant, knowing that with each second he was crossing further over the line, but as she continued to look up at him pleadingly, flexing her tiny hands impatiently, he gave in and scooped the girl up into his arms, and in that moment it felt like he had done it a million times. He had one hand on her back and the other supported her waist as the child's legs clung to his hips. Solas' breath stopped when she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his chest. Her hair tickled the bottom of his chin, and he marvelled at how soft it was.

With lidded eyes, he walked them to the table, feeling utterly complete with the weight against him. As he neared the table he nodded to the waiter who returned the gesture, allowing the two to take the table. He regretted having to place her in the chair, but he knew that an Inquisition agent shouldn't keep the Inquisitor's daughter in his lap.

He took the other seat and eyed the child, trying to figure out exactly he was to do next.

"Are you hungry?" he asked lamely. Lori shook her head, and his crippled confidence in this situation broke another bone.

"Okay...would you like something to drink?"

Solas waited and thought that he had failed again, but then the little girl gave a small nod.

"Alright." He waved over one of the waiters and asked for a glass of water. As the waiter left, Solas took one of the napkins and got up from his seat.

"Here, let's clean you up," he said as knelt in front of Lori. He wiped away the snot and tears on her face.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"Mama's gonna be mad," Lori murmured sadly.

"Don't say that, da'len. I'm sure she's just worried about you."

Lori's eyes widened.

"Mama calls me da'len! Are you Dalish like her?"

Solas chuckled. "No I am not Dalish, and they are not the only ones who speak the old language."

"Mama taught me some Elf words! Adhal means tree," Lori said proudly.

"Very good," Solas smiled. "Did your mamae teach you any others?"

Lori cocked her head to the side in confusion.

"Mamae?"

"Oh I'm sorry, _mamae _means mama."

Lori's eyes brightened in understanding.

"Oh. Yeah-huh she did!" Lori nodded, looking quite chuffed. "Assan is arrow. Aunt Sera like those. Tan is this many," Lori held up three fingers. "I'm gonna be Tan soon!"

"I heard," replied Solas.

"And-and Fen means wolf! That's also a god too."

Solas tried to hide his wince.

"Yes, it is."

"Mhm, mama taught be 'bout all the gods. They're called Creators, 'cause they made everything," Lori told him like their ages were reversed. "There's this many of them," she added, holding up nine of her fingers."

"Very good, da'len. You're mamae taught you well," Solas told her.

"Uh-huh, and the wolf's name Harold."

Solas raised a brow. "Pardon?"

Lori rolled her eyes. "Duh, stupid. Harold's one of the Creators. He's a magic wolf who likes to play games and stuff," the child said in a patronizing way unsuited for a soon-to-be three year old.

Solas doubled over in laughter, and had to put a hand to his mask to keep it from falling off.

"What's funny?" Lori asked.

"N-nothing," Solas replied between his laughter.

Lori made a face.

"You're weird. Kinda like Bellamy."

The laughter fell from Solas' lips. He had not forgotten about the sinister jester who had gotten so close to his daughter.

"Lori," Solas began, trying to keep his voice calm. "Can you tell me about Bellamy? Who was he?"

Lori nodded.

"Well, when I got lost I got scared, a-and I was cryin' and Bellamy found me and tried cheering me up."

"Why would you go with him. Didn't your mamae tell you not to talk to strangers?"

"W-well he wasn't really a stranger! He knew my name, he even called me by my whole name, and only mamae does that! Well so does aunt Viv but she's all fancy and stuff, and he couldn't have been a stranger if he knew my name right?"

"He knew your name?" This made the uncomfortable feeling in Solas' gut even stronger. The jester knew her name, her whole name. There were so many implications it took all of Solas' will not to go off and track the clown down and ask him some questions at the threat of mage-fire. The reason he did no such thing, however, was looking at him with growing look of worry.

"Di-did I do something wrong?" she squeaked.

"You shouldn't have talked with him, da'len. He was up to no good."

"But h-he was nice to me!" Lori insisted, her voice rising. Solas saw the return of tears and quickly came to Lori's aid with a napkin and a hug.

"Please don't be upset, da'len, it's not your fault," he assured the girl.

"B-but he made me laugh, and-and he gave me this," Lori continued.

"Gave you what?" Solas asked.

Lori dug around in her dress pocket until she pulled out a small ragdoll.

"His name is Pumpkin, 'cause he has orange hair," Lori said, tugging on one of the orange stands of yarn that made up the doll's hair.

"May I see that?" asked Solas. Lori placed the doll in the mage's hand, and he turned it around in his hand as he examined it. It looked like a tiny scarecrow, with little cloth overalls and scraggly orange yarn for hair. Its face consisted of two black buttons for eyes and a long black stitched line for a smile. Subtly as not to worry the elf girl any further, Solas squeezed the doll and felt nothing further than the stuffing inside. He could not sense any enchantments emanating from the doll, and confirmed that it was just a normal toy.

"Here you are," he said as he handed her the doll.

"Do you have a sword?" Lori suddenly asked as she hugged the toy.

Solas was taken back by the out of the blue question.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well you're mamae's agent, so do you have a cool sword and stuff?"

"I have no sword, unfortunately," he replied, which made Lori frown. "No, you see I am a mage actually."

Lori's eyes widened.

"You're a mage? My mamae's a mage!"

Solas chuckled.

"Indeed, and she's an excellent one at that."

"She said my daddy was a mage too, which means I might be one too!"

Solas stiffened, not that Lori noticed.

"I don't know my daddy," Lori continued on. "Mama said he was _really_ smart and liked playing with spirits and stuff, kinda like Cole. Cole's really nice; he likes to play with Parsey and me even though he's bigger than us. I haven't met any spirits 'cept him, but I like bugs! I asked mamae where my daddy is, and she just said he had to leave when I was in her tummy. It made her sad to talk about, so I don't ask no more. Did you know he made the pretty pictures where the mages live? 'cause he did, and they are real pretty!"

Solas forced himself to keep his composure as his child continued to ramble on. The way she was looking up at him with such an honest smile, unaware he was the one who caused so much pain and misery to her mother, made Solas want to weep. He did not however, and his mask remained right where it was. It turned out he wasn't as good at hiding his emotions however, because she suddenly paused her little rant.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Solas snapped out of his stupor.

"Nothing, dear. Nothing's wrong," he lied. Lori squinted at him, and reminded Solas of Nimwen when she knew someone was lying to her. The little girl climbed out of her chair and clambered into Solas' wrapping her little arms around his neck.

"Wh-what-"

"Your sad, and hugs are for making people feel better," Lori interrupted the mage. Solas was stunned, but when it became apparent she was not going to let up, he chuckled to himself and returned the child's embrace.

"Thank you very much, da'len. I feel much better now."

Suddenly Lori made a tiny whine that had Solas concerned. He pulled away to look the girl in the eye.

"Are you alright?" he asked. She looked down, her face sullen.

"I...I want mamae," she said quietly. Solas gulped. He knew that he needed to return Lori to Nimwen as soon as possible, but he still had no idea how he going to find her, let alone how he reunite mother and daughter without exposing himself.

"Don't worry, we will find her," he assured her. "And I promise that I won't leave you until I know you are with her."

Lori looked up to him, her blue eyes hopeful.

"You promise?"

"I Promise."

Lori raised her pinkie. "You gotta pinkie swear, that's the rule," she said seriously. Solas scoffed, but ended up wrapping his long finger around her tiny stubby one. He smirked at her as he gave her pinkie a little tug, to which she grinned up at him.

"Falon."

"What?" asked Solas.

"That's another elf word, it means 'friend' and you're my friend now, so I get to call you that."

"I…" Solas smiled. "I am honoured to be your friend, Lori." So swelled with emotion was he, that he didn't have the heart to tell her of her slight mistake, especially with the smile that adorned her lips.

"Yay."

"Solas?!"

While Solas' blood ran cold, Lori's smile only brightened.

"Aunt Josie! Uncle Blackwall!" Lori tore out of her seat and ran towards the couple. Solas stood, taking in the shocked faces on Josephine and Blackwall's face that surely matched his own. As the bearded warrior caught the child in his arms, his newly betrothed was walking over to Solas, staring at him with confusion and concern.

"What in the Maker's name are you doing?" she whispered quickly.

"I can explain-"

"You had better. Are you mad?! Are you trying to ruin everything-?"

"I saw her alone with some stranger, did you expect me to do nothing?"

This calmed Josephine some, but she was still on edge.

"Where is the Inquisitor?" she asked, looking around as if she feared the Dalish woman would suddenly appear out of nowhere.

"Lori said they got separated, and she couldn't find her."

"Solas I know you had no choice, but do you have any idea what Lori is going to say once her Worship gets her back?"

"I know, I told her that I was an Inquisition agent and that is what she believes."

Josephine nodded. "That was smart."

She looked at Solas gravely. "Listen Solas, you need to leave. _Now_. Blackwall and I shall keep Lori until we can find her Worship."

Solas breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," said Solas. "And if you could-"

"Don't worry, the one who found Lori was an agent who then had to leave for his other duties."

Solas looked at the Antivan with utter gratitude.

"Thank you, Josephine."

"There is hope for you two Solas, don't mess that up. Now go!"

With a nod, Solas began to jog away.

"Wait, Sully!"

Confused, Solas turned around and saw Lori had teared herself away from Blackwall to race over to him.

"What did you call me?" asked the mage.

"Aunt Josie said your name was Sully, right?"

Solas smirked.

"Yes, my name's Sully," he replied, thankful for her mishearing.

"Are you leaving?" she asked.

"I'm afraid so. I have work I need to attend to, but Blackwall and Josephine are going to make sure that you get back to your mamae, alright?"

It was clear Lori was not pleased with his departure, but she nodded in understanding.

"That's good. I need to get going now-"

The elf was not prepared for the arms that latched themselves to his knees.

"Bye-bye, Sully," Lori said sadly.

Solas felt a tug in his chest that had him kneeling down to stroke the top of Lori's head.

"Dareth shiral, da'len," he said quietly.

"That's how mamae tells me bye-bye," Lori told him. Solas smiled.

"I'm glad your mamae is teaching you so many words from our people. Remember them, they are your legacy," he told her, and then he placed a kiss to his little girl's forehead.

After peeling himself from the child and returning her to Josephine, Solas made his exit from the city, discarding the mask that had withheld his true identity from his daughter, as well as discarding his role as Sully the Inquisition agent. As he rode Raindrop away from Val Royeaux, the city making way to the countryside, Solas thought back to his first true encounter with his daughter. Though it was one-sided and started from a less than pleasurable situation, he would not trade it for anything in the world. To hear about her was one thing, but to talk to her, to hold her, made what he was fighting for more tangible, more desirable than ever.

He wondered if it was just a father's bias talking, but he was convinced that she was the most perfect child he'd ever met, and as he raced back to Skyhold, he was more determined than ever to make sure that he was going to be a part of this perfect child's future.

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****YAY I FINALLY GET SOME FATHER-DAUGHTER FLUFF!**

**Okay so half of that equation was unaware that that was in fact father-daughter fluff, but WE all know what went down! What's going to happen? Who was that creepy clown? Will Solas get to be a daddy? Stay tuned to find out my darlings!**

**FAVS FOLLOWS AND REVIEWS ARE LOVE!**


	12. Chapter 12

**IMPORTANT ANNOUNCMENT! I REPEAT IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT! BY THE MAKER READ THIS!**

**So, as I said I have a very special announcement for all you guys. You like this fic? You want more even when I don't have new chapters? How does that make sense? Well, it happens that I am currently doing a CROSSOVER FIC! With my dear friend Flamewing80 which combines the world of His Homecoming, with her fic Final Hour, and is called Fates Entwined. I highly recommend you read it because we work very hard on it and it is a blast to write. It is uploaded onto my channel so go there to get started. Also make sure to check out Flamewing80's fic, not just so you know who those characters are, but because it is utter awesomeness and delves into Solas's past. Make sure to check them out!**

**SHOUT-OUTS TO****: Inverness, LuminousHawke,** **aHeartwithWings, VampireGoddess12Xx, UmiNight Angel Neko, justaregularteen, jackcoffman, Tharosis2442, Liahna T'Riah, and the rest of you wonderful dolphins.**

**Any who, on with the story!**

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"Solas, could I speak to you?"

Solas glanced up from the book he was reading to look at Josephine. It had been two days since the incident in Val Royeaux, and Solas was relieved to find nobody questioned him about his absence. The elf had busied himself with rearranging the last of his packed away things, and this was the first he'd seen of Josephine since he departed from Val Royeaux.

"What do you need, Josephine?" asked the mage.

"It's Cullen. He wishes to speak to you."

Solas raised an eyebrow. "Cullen? What does he need from me?"

"I don't know, he only said he wanted to talk to you," Josephine replied.

"You don't think it's about what happened in-?"

"Oh no, you don't need to worry about that," Josephine assured him. "I explained to Cullen what happened and he understood. I left out the part about Lori though, I assure you."

"Oh, good," said Solas. "One less thing to worry about," he chuckled, the sound reverberating off the rotunda walls.

"I still cannot thank you enough for what you did, Solas," Josephine told him. The Antivan's eyes shown with gratitude as her fingers brushed against the ring on her hand. "I don't know where we'd be if you hadn't talked sense into him," she said.

"I'm glad I could help," Solas smiled. "I only hope you two are happy together, and I'm sure you will make a lovely bride."

The ambassador smiled, a blush on her cheeks. "I can't wait. There will be a lot of planning of course. Aside from the ceremony we'll have my family to deal with foremost. It helps that the Otrantos are still on good terms with us after I broke off our engagement, but my parents will still need to come around to the idea."

"I wish you luck," said Solas.

"Thank you."

"And Josephine?"

"Yes?"

"What… happened with Lori after I left?"

"We managed to find Vivienne who led us to her Worship, who was on the brink of freezing the marketplace."

Solas laughed. Her frost magic always had a habit of being swayed by her emotions. Solas could recall a particular memory of a heated argument between Nimwen and Sera, which resulted in the archer's hair being accidently covered in frost. Even Sera was laughing at the mortified face of the Inquisitor as she sputtered out apologies while defrosting the rogue's head.

"I take it she was relieved to have Lori back?"

"You have no idea," said Josephine. "I don't think I've ever seen someone look so relieved when she heard Lori call out to her. She almost knocked me over when she grabbed Lori from my arms."

Solas smiled. "She sounds like a wonderful mother."

Josephine nodded. "You know how she is. Sometimes it amazes me how her Worship's compassion seems almost endless. She loves Lori so much, it's astonishing. I hope someday I can be half the mother she is."

"I'm sure you will," Solas replied. He went to stand. "My apologies, but I do believe that I should speak to our commander."

"Oh of course, and I should get back to work as well," said Josephine.

With a bow, Solas excused himself and left the rotunda, seeking the commander's office. The wind whistled gently in his ears as Solas walked along the wall leading to Cullen's office. When he opened the door Cullen was standing over his desk staring over some papers. The yellow haired human appeared oblivious to Solas' entrance, and was studying the papers with the same focused eyes Solas remembered he had.

The mage cleared his throat. "You wanted to speak to me?" he asked.

Cullen looked up from his desk. "Solas, I see Josephine got to you. Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to the empty chair.

As Solas sat down, his eyes traced over Cullen's office. Little had changed since he last saw it three years ago, except perhaps it was even more immaculate; if such a thing were possible.

"How can I help you, commander?" asked Solas.

"We've been working on leads with the Dream Catchers, but we haven't gotten far," said Cullen. "I was wondering if you had any more information that could help us."

"Sadly, no," admitted Solas. "The spirits who I expected to have any information are either clueless or missing."

"I see." Cullen sighed. There was a twitch in his jaw, irritation. "Leliana's people are still trying to track down leads on Mordalwen, and Josephine is trying to get a hold of her contacts in Rivain to see if they know anything about her. I supposed we're stuck until we get a lead."

"I'm sorry I cannot be of any more help," said Solas.

"You brought this to our attention, that's what matters."

A silence fell over the two men. Even before his departure, Solas and Cullen were not what one would call close. It was not that they did not like each other, but their occupations and beliefs were on opposite ends of the spectrum and they rarely had reason to interact outside of the Inquisitor. Now though, Solas could tell that the Commander's opinion of him had dropped from his past indifference. The mage did not blame him, and appreciated the front of civility he was putting up.

"So how long?" asked Solas.

Cullen raised a brow. "Pardon?"

"How long have you been married?" Solas clarified, pointing to the ring on Cullen's hand. He'd noticed the gold band as soon as he sat down.

"Oh." Cullen twisted the gold band on his finger. "It's been about three months now," he said.

"Congratulations. Might I ask who the lucky lady is?" Solas did not remember Cullen being in any sort of relationship when he left, and he was curious who had managed to win the ex-Templar's heart.

"Her name is Frann, of house Trevelyan." Cullen said her name with an unconscious smile on his face.

"Trevelyan? She's a noble?"

"Youngest daughter of Bann Trevelyan."

"Forgive me, but how did you end up married to a noblewoman?"

"She isn't what you'd call the most…conventional of noble ladies. She preferred to train with a sword than with a needle, which was not necessarily a problem, except when her family pressured her to marry she refused. She was then pressured to either join the chantry as either a Templar or a sister, her family is devout you see, and she didn't want that either. Instead she ran away and joined the Inquisition after we found Skyhold. She started out as a ground troop, and I did not meet her personally until she became an officer. We worked together and got to know each other rather well, which led to us getting…close." Cullen coughed. "After a year I finally proposed, and here we are."

"I'm glad you've found someone," said Solas. "She must be an interesting woman to have garnered your affections."

Cullen snorted. "You have no idea."

"I hope you enjoy married life. Who knows? Soon you might be welcoming in young ones."

"Funny you say that," Cullen had a strange look on his face.

Solas cocked his head. "Pardon?"

"Well…Frann is actually with child right now."

"Really?" Solas looked surprised. "Congratulations. How far along is she?"

Cullen decided that in this moment the bookshelf looked very interesting. "She…she's nearing the end of her eighth month." The commander's stoic expression was ruined by the pink of his cheeks.

Solas raised a brow.

"Wh-what?" Cullen asked defensively.

"Nothing, there's no problem with getting a head start," Solas smirked. "I'm sure you'll be a great father."

"That's actually something I wanted to talk about," Cullen said, growing serious. The blush faded from his face and he turned to look Solas right in the eyes. "I need you to answer me this; what are your intentions with the Inquisitor and her child?"

Solas paused. He eyed the commander. The ex-Templar's eyes stared him down like he was a code that needed to be cracked.

"I wish to redeem myself in the Inquisitor's eyes as well as prove myself suitable to be in Lori's life."

"Had you known of her pregnancy beforehand, would you still have left without a word?" Cullen asked, cutting to the chase.

"No." Solas answered honestly. Despite the war he continued to face in his mind, he knew that this was the one thing he was certain of. Despite his mission for the People, he knew that he would never have intentionally left his child. Not only for his own personal wants, but because the fact of what she was made her connected to the very goal that took Solas from her mother in the first place.

"I am not the biggest fan of you," Cullen admitted. "What you did is damn near unforgivable, and I would see you far from this keep where you can't do more harm." The human sighed. "However, her Worship thinks you worthy of her forgiveness, and so I shall go along with her wishes."

"I owe you a task, as it were," said Solas.

"Indeed, and when I can think of something that is worth my approval I shall let you know. In the meantime I suggest you see to the wishes of the rest of the Inner Circle."

"I want to assure you, Commander, that I am doing everything in my power to prove I am serious about being a part of both Nimwen and Lori's lives." Solas told him.

"I am holding you to that," Cullen said. The human's eyes narrowed. "I consider the Inquisitor to not only be an exceptional woman, but a personal friend of mine, and if you do anything to hurt either her or Lori, expect me to track you down and make you answer for it."

"I expect no less from you, Commander," Solas said.

Cullen nodded, relaxing his stance. "I'm glad we've come to an understanding."

"If there's nothing more, I'll leave you to your work," Solas said. He stood from his chair, bowed, and walked towards the door.

"Solas?"

The mage turned around. "Yes?"

"Just so you know, Frann wants to meet you sometime. She and her Worship are good friends, and when she heard of your return she insisted she meet you."

"Very well, let me know when she would like to meet and I'll be happy to attend."

"Good, err just be warned. Frann can be a bit…overwhelming to those who are not used to her. She can be blunt, so prepare for any questions and…honest observations."

"She sounds like a woman who speaks her mind. I would expect nothing less from the wife of the Inquisition's General."

Cullen looked caught off guard by Solas's words. Then, he let a small, but honest, smile slip through.

"Good day to you, Solas."

"And you, Commander." With that Solas left.

"Hey, Solas, you have a minute?"

Solas looked up from his book. "What can I do for you, Bull?"

"I was wondering if you could do me a favour."

"What kind of favour?"

The Qunari scratched the back of his head. "Well you see, I got a last minute job to do with the Chargers, but the maid who promised to watch Parsey ended up getting sick and everyone else is out on work. Do you mind watching him?"

"Who is this Parsey?" Solas asked.

"You don't know?" Iron Bull blinked. "Huh, thought somebody would have mentioned it by now. Parsey is my son, Dorian's too."

Solas's eyes widened. "You two have a _son_?"

Iron Bull laughed at the shocked look on the elf's face. "Yeah who would have thought, right? He's five now. Man how they grow up," the warrior sighed.

Solas had no words. Before he left he remembered that the two men's relationship, though young, was starting to become serious, but a child was never something Solas pictured for them. The idea of them being parents was about as unexpected as, well, _him _being a parent.

"It seems much has happened since I left," Solas mused, more to himself than to Bull.

For a moment an unreadable look passed over Iron Bull's face, but the Qunari was quick to recover.

"So do you think you could watch him? There've been some issues near the border that they want us to investigate. I'll be gone a day, two days tops."

"Well I'm not sure I'm…" Solas remembered that he technically owed Iron Bull a favour, and by the look the warrior was giving him, he remembered as well.

"I'd be happy to look after him."

Iron Bull smiled. "Thanks, Solas. Dorian's doing stuff in Redcliffe, and he'd have a cow if I left Parsey unwatched."

"I'm glad I'll be helping to keep him cowless then," Solas joked.

Iron Bull laughed, clapping the elf on the shoulder. "I'm leaving in a few hours, so I should probably introduce you guys."

"Yes that does make sense," Solas agreed. The mage set down his book and followed Iron Bull out of his study. As he followed Iron Bull down the hall, Solas tried to study the Qunari. So far Iron Bull seemed to be the only one of his old companions who didn't hold some resentment towards him, but he could be wrong. Solas was no fool, and knew that the Qunari was better at reading people than he would ever be; even with the eighty centuries he had on the man. He knew he also had the better poker face, and whether Iron Bull secretly held contempt for him was something he'd only learn once the warrior came out and told him.

The two men entered the main hall and headed to the door to the gardens. They walked passed the people milling about until they spotted a certain lad sitting beneath a tree.

"_Mertam_!" Iron Bull called out. The boy looked up from the papers occupying his lap. Upon seeing who was calling him, the boy jumped to his feet and jogged over.

"Papa!"

"There's my little man," Iron Bull grinned as he scooped the boy into his arms and swung him around, much to the boy's delight. Solas stood by and silently marvelled at the sight. It was strange to see the brute who he'd watched cleave men in two holding this small child with the utmost gentleness. Upon closer inspection Solas realized that this was the Qunari boy he'd seen Lori playing with in the gardens. This was the first time he'd seen a young Qunari, and though technically an obvious fact, it was still strange to think that the strong and imposing Qunari were once like this boy. He tried to find some sort of marker that could give him hint to the child's origins. Outside of his race, the boy held no resemblance to Iron Bull, supporting Solas's growing suspicion of him being adopted.

"Hey, Parsey," Iron Bull said as he put the boy down. He pointed to Solas. "I want you to meet somebody. This is Solas. He's an old friend of your dad and I."

When the boy noticed the elf, he suddenly grew shy and huddled closer to the older Qunari.

Iron Bull shook his head fondly and tapped the boy on the shoulder. "Hey, no need to be shy," Iron Bull assured his son.

Parsey looked up at his father, then to Solas. "H-hi," he stammered.

"Hello, Parsey," Solas smiled down at the boy.

"Listen _Mertan_, you remember how Liz was going to watch you while I was gone?"

"Yeth," Parsey answered.

"Well, she got sick, so Solas is going to watch you."

Parsey's eyes grew wide.

"He ith?" the little boy asked in an unsure voice.

"Listen, don't be nervous. Solas is a nice guy and he'll keep you out of trouble," he said with a wink.

"O-okay."

"Hey, Chief!" The three of them looked up when Krem rushed into the gardens.

"What's up, Krem?"

"Those blasted patrol want us to leave _now_," Krem responded irritated.

Iron Bull groaned. "Alright," he sighed. He looked down at Parsey. "Listen Parse, I gotta head out early, so promise me you'll listen to Solas and be good, alright?"

"Okay," Parsey nodded. Iron Bull gave his son a hug and then stood. He looked at Solas.

"Take care of him alright? He's a good kid and shouldn't cause any trouble."

"I will," said Solas. Iron Bull followed Krem out of the gardens, leaving Solas alone with Parsey. Suddenly Solas felt like he'd been hit with a rock. What was he supposed to do? All he'd been told was to watch the boy. Aside from keeping him from being killed or maimed, Solas had no idea what "watching him" entailed. This felt familiar.

Solas looked down at Parsey. The little Qunari boy was looking up at him with eyes that were parts curious, parts unsure, and parts uneasy. Good, Solas was not alone.

"So, Parsey," Solas began. His eyes landed on the tree the boy had been sitting at. "What was it you were working on over there?"

The Qunari boy's eyes widened. "Uh-uh nothin'," he stammered, looking down at his feet.

"'Nothing?' Well, it must be important if that bird wants to take a look at it."

"What?" Parsey turned around. "H-hey, thtop that!" he yelled at the bird who decided to perch on his paper. The boy ran over to shoo the bird away, and Solas followed behind. As soon as the bird flew away Parsey grabbed his paper, looking it over with worried eyes.

"Good," Parsey sighed in relief when he found it unscathed.

"Have you been drawing?" Solas asked when he noticed the small case of pencils beside the tree.

"Y-yeah," Parsey said.

"Would you mind if I saw it?"

"N-no!" the boy stammered as he hid the drawing behind his back.

"What's wrong?" Solas asked, trying not to seem intimidating to the child.

Parsey looked down at his feet. "It'th not very good," he grumbled.

"Oh I'm sure it isn't bad," Solas said.

"N-no it ith," Parsey insisted. "Thee?" he asked as he thrust the paper at Solas.

Solas looked down at the paper. The parchment was covered in scribbled colours. The picture showed a childish rendition of two people riding what looked like a giant serpent. One of the people, judging by their hair and the nubs on their head, looked like Parsey. As for the other, even when rendered by a child, Solas could recognize that yellow hair and blue eyes anywhere.

"Is this you and Lori?"

"How do you know Lori?" Parsey asked.

"I'm a…friend of her mother," Solas lied.

"Oh. And yeah, it'th uth." The child stared at the ground glumly. "I wanted to make thomething for her birthday, but it'th no good. Now I dunno what I'm gonna give her."

"Don't say that," Solas assured him. "It has a lot of potential. But, just because you don't like the first one doesn't mean you can't make a new one. You have all that paper, after all."

"But what if the next one ith no good either?" Parsey asked.

"Listen," Solas said as he knelt in front of the boy. "I like to draw too."

Parsey's eyes widened. "You do?"

Solas nodded. "I love it, and what I've learned is that if you have an idea but it's not so good the first time, you just gotta keep trying. Sometimes it takes me ten times before I like a sketch."

"Ten timeth?" Parsey asked in surprise.

"Yes, and you're only on your first one and it's not that bad. So, you want to do over her picture again?"

Parsey glanced over at his small stack of paper. "I gueth I can make it better." He mumbled.

"There you go," Solas smiled. "In fact, do you mind if I colour something while you work?"

"Sure!" Parsey said enthusiastically. He and Solas sat beneath the tree and the Qunari boy handed the mage half the stack of paper.

"We can share," he said.

"Thank you," Solas replied.

"My daddy got thethe for me for my birthday," Parsey said proudly. "They're pretty, and I love them."

"Then I am honoured you're letting me use them."

Parsey gave a small smile. They spent the afternoon drawing. Solas sketched away, not really paying attention to what he was doing, and helped Parsey when the boy grew frustrated. He answered questions such as which colour did he think should go where, or whether he thought Parsey drew this part right, and anything else the boys asked him. He did his best not to let his own artistic prowess get the better of him; it was a child's drawing he kept reminding himself when Parsey drew outside the lines or skewed the proportions. As they worked Solas got to learn a bit more about the young lad. He picked up that the boy had a lisp, but chose not to question him about it. He could tell that Parsey was shy, and pointing out something like that just when he got the boy comfortable enough to talk to him was unwise. He also found out that the boy was actually half Qunari. This only made Solas even more curious about the boy's heritage, but those were questions he intended to ask the boy's parents instead.

"Wh-what do you think?" Parsey asked shyly when he finally finished his picture. Solas looked over the drawing, giving a hum of approval. Though no masterpiece, it was much better than the first. While they were working, Parsey clarified to him that the serpent was actually supposed to be a caterpillar, and this new rendition captured that much better. The giant caterpillar was a bright green with red legs, and a red smile on its face. The two children now looked less like scribbles and more like actual people.

"It looks wonderful," Solas said. "I'm sure Lori will love it."

"R-really? Th-thank you mithter Tholath," Parsey grinned. Solas chuckled. Twice now a child had mispronounced his name, but he found that he didn't mind it.

"I'm glad I could help," said the mage. He ruffled the boy's woolly hair and he laughed when the child playfully batted his hands away. Even though this was not his child, there was something about this scene, that Solas felt was right. Like this was where he was supposed to be.

"What did you make?" Parsey asked curiously. The boy peaked at Solas' drawing and his brown eyes widened.

"Wow," he gasped.

Solas looked down at his paper, and just then realized that he hadn't really been paying attention to his own hand as it worked. His breath hitched.

"It lookth like mith Nimwen," Parsey said.

"Y-yes it does," Solas stammered. For what Solas considered a mere absentminded sketch, the drawing was impressive. Drawn completely in blue, it depicted the Inquisitor from her head to her shoulders. While most of the lines were loose and rough, her eyes were sharp and defined, and seemed alive.

"That ith real pretty," said Parsey in awe.

"Thank you," Solas replied, as he stared at his work. She was smiling, he realized. It was the smile he always pictured when he thought of her.

"You should show her!"

Solas paused, brought out of his thoughts. "I might do that," he mused. He carefully folded up the drawing and tucked it into his tunic. "So what would you like to do now?" Solas asked as he helped Parsey clean up his things.

"Well," the boy began as he thought. "Daddy thaid I need to work on my thpelling, but it'th tho hard."

"Would you like me to help?" Solas offered.

"Are you good at thpelling?"

"I think I'm pretty good," Solas smirked.

"I hope tho. One of hath to be."

Solas tried to hide his laughter at how the boy's sarcastic toned sounded just like Dorian. Parsey told Solas where to go as he guided the elf to his room. It seemed that after their relationship became cemented, Iron Bull moved into Dorian's room in the keep's living quarters, and once Parsey came into the picture the boy was given an adjoining room. Solas waited in the doorway while Parsey scrambled around depositing his drawing materials on the bed and picking up a small journal.

"Daddy uthually teaches me in the liberry," Parsey said.

"Alright, why don't we head there now?"

The two passed through Solas' study and went up the stairs to the library. The library was unusually vacant as Solas looked for a table to sit at. Just as he took a seat Parsey told him to stand up.

"That'th not the table," Parsey said with a pout. "_That'th _the table," he clarified, pointing to the table right next to the one Solas sat at.

"My apologies," Solas said, shaking his head at the finicky nature of children. As Solas readied the quill and ink Parsey opened his journal and flipped to the most recent page. Solas noted that on the left page was a list of words and sentences written in neat distinctive hand-writing: Dorian's handwriting. The right page however, was full of scribbled words and ink splatters.

"I wath okay when it wath just the letters," Parsey explained. "But now daddy wanths me to make wordth and thenten…thententhe…" Parsey's brow furrowed in frustration.

"Are you trying to say 'sentences'?" asked Solas.

"Y-yeah," Parsey responded quietly. "But thothe oneth are hard." He slid the journal over to Solas to prove his point. The mage flipped through the book. All of the left hand pages were made up of rose of random words and letters, all organized and written with precision.

"Did your father write all of this?" Solas asked, marvelling at how much time and monotony must have gone into making these lists.

"Uh-huh, daddy did it," Parsey nodded.

Solas respected Dorian, knowing that he was the one Parsey called 'daddy', and tried to imagine him spending hours writing down the endless columns of letters and phrases.

"Daddy thaid he wanted to teach me 'cauthe he thaid I shouldn't be with the mean ladieth and thticks." The Qunari boy scratched his head. "I dunno what he meant though."

"It means your daddy loves you a lot," Solas answered. He assumed by 'mean ladies with sticks' Dorian was talking about overly strict tutors.

That made Parsey smile.

"So, let us begin, shall we?" Solas asked. He flipped to the last page and handed Parsey the quill. Parsey told him how Dorian taught him and Solas followed in accordance. Parsey was meant to copy the word or sentence on his side, followed by him reading the words aloud. Solas then covered the left side and read the words out loud and Parsey was to attempt to write them down. He was not the best writer, Solas realized. Many times he wrote the letters backwards or so poorly it was unreadable, and he kept forgetting how to spell the words after a while. Still, the child was persistent, and so driven to get it right that Solas could tell he was getting himself worked up. Solas was very patient with the boy, doing his best to explain even when it seemed the boy just couldn't grasp the concept. After consistently adding a second '_r' _to 'water' five times in a row despite Solas' reminders, Parsey was so wound up that when he went to dab his quill in the ink he ended up tipping over the jar.

"No, no!" the boy cried when the ink began to spread.

"It's alright," Solas reassured him as he kept his voice calm. He managed to lift the journal just before the ink could get to it. "Don't worry, I'll get a rag to clean this up and then we can-" Solas stopped when he heard sniffling. He looked over and saw that Parsey was crying in his seat.

"Parsey?" Solas set the journal on another table. He bent down in front of Parsey's chair. "Parsey, it's alright. We can clean this up and-"

"I-I can't."

Solas' eyebrow rose. "Can't what?" This was about more than just the ink.

"I c-c-c-can't d-do it!" Parsey cried. "It-it'th too hard and I'm thupid and I can't learn it and-and…" The more the boy tried to speak the harder it was to understand him.

"Parsey." Solas held the boy's shoulders. "Parsey there's nothing wrong with you, and you're not stupid. You're just learning and it's alright to make mistakes."

"B-b-but I can't do it," the boy blubbered. "I-I try and rememb-ber but I can't. And all the letterth look f-funny and they danthe on the page and I can't make it neat. D-d-d-daddy maketh me keep doing it but when I meth up he getth angry at me."

"I'm sure he's not angry at you," Solas assured the boy. Parsey shook his head.

"No, he'th mad. 'cauthe he'th tho thmart and-and I'm dumb and-"

"You are not dumb," Solas hushed. He stared into Parsey teary eyes. "It's hard now, but you just need to keep trying. Don't get upset when you make mistakes, because mistakes are there to help us learn. Okay?"

Parsey sniffed. "But daddy wanths me to be thmart, and when I keep mething up he getth mad." he whimpered.

"Your daddy isn't mad at you. Frustrated maybe," -more tears started coming- "but only because he wants to help you learn!" he quickly added before Parsey had another meltdown. "You are young, and your father had a long time to get as smart as he is. I'm sure he had trouble learning just like you when he was your age. You'll get there someday, but for now you have to keep trying, alright?" Solas used his sleeve to wipe away some of the tear stains on the young boy's face. Parsey looked up at him, his brown eyes round like calf's eyes, and then Solas found himself being tackled by a hug. At first he was stiff, but then he relaxed and stroked the boy's curly hair comfortingly.

"I-I'm thorry," Parsey hiccupped.

"It's alright. Everyone gets upset from time to time." He patted the boy's back. "Are you okay now?" Solas asked. He felt Parsey nod against his chest. "That's good." He pulled away to look the boy in the face. "Now let's hurry up and clean this ink before it dries okay?"

They managed to clean the table and managed to save the wood from a dark stain. The only evidence of the accident was the strong smell of ink; and even then, that wasn't too out of place in a library. Afterwards Solas decided it was best to take a break from writing and took Parsey to the kitchens for a snack. One of the servants recognized Parsey and offered to make him something. Parsey thanked the young lady, named Horty, and asked for a jam sandwich. A jam sandwich Solas found out was literally a sandwich with just strawberry jam slathered between two pieces of bread. Solas saw an enticing piece of cake that caught his eye, and Parsey convinced Horty to let Solas take it with him. The two of them enjoyed their treats sitting at one of the benches on the wall near the gardens.

"Lori liketh thothe," Parsey said while he pointed a jam-covered finger at Solas's cake.

"Does she?" Solas asked.

"Uh-huh she loveth cake." Parsey said as he licked jam from his fingers.

This made Solas smile to himself.

After their snacks, Solas did his best to satisfy ever whim Parsey had. When the boy wanted to watch the soldiers train, Solas sat with him while the child observed the sparring matches with glee. When that ended Solas followed Parsey outside while the half-Qunari scoured the ground looking for rocks. He had no idea why the boy was collecting rocks, or what qualified a certain rock for collecting and why others didn't. In the end, he kept an eye on Parsey until the boy's pockets were full of various stones. When the boy grew bored, Solas entertained him with stories of his adventures in the Fade and of the spirits he'd encountered. Parsey found these fascinating, and Solas felt a bit of pride when he answered the boy's many questions.

At the end of the day after making sure he had supper, Solas was carrying a very sleepy Parsey back to his bedroom.

"That thoup wath good." Parsey mumbled sleepily.

"I agree," replied Solas.

"Papa doethn't like thpinich, but daddy alwayth trieth to make him eat it. I like it though, tho papa giveth me hith when daddy ithn't looking."

Solas chuckled. "You two make quite the team."

"Don't tell daddy though."

"My lips are sealed."

When he made it to the boy's bedroom door, he adjusted his hold on the five-year old and used his free hand to turn the knob. He walked to the bed and pulled back the blankets.

"Time for bed," he whispered. All he got was a mumbled reply as he laid the child on the bed and tucked the boy in.

"Good-night, Parsey," Solas said. He walked towards the door.

"W-wait."

Solas turned around. Parsey was peeking at him from behind his covers.

"Th-thtay?" he asked, timid.

Solas realized then that Bull didn't tell him what to do once the day was done. He knew it was definetly inappropriate for him to stay in the boy's room, but he couldn't trust the boy to come all the way to the rotunda if he needed something. There needed to be a medium. He got an idea.

"How about this; I'll sleep in your parent's room tonight, and if you need anything you can come get me, alright?"

"You sure?" asked Parsey in an unsure voice.

"I'm sure. If you have a bad dream or want me to check for monsters, I am at your service."

Parsey giggled. "You don't have to check for monthterth thilly. Daddy made my room monthter proof."

Solas chuckled. He couldn't decide whether Dorian said that to comfort the boy, or if the mage had actually placed wards within his son's room. Given Dorian, either was possible.

"Alright, I shall see you in the morning. Good-night, Parsey."

"Night mithter Tholath," Parsey replied as he was on the verge of sleep. "Thankth for playing with me."

Solas smiled. "You're welcome."

When at last the five-year old's eyes shut, Solas tiptoed out of the room and went next door to Dorian and Iron Bull's room. While it still felt a bit odd to be using his companion's room without their permission, he was certain they wouldn't mind. Solas opened the door and walked in, taking in his temporary quarters. He had rarely ever visited the Altus in his room, and never since he began living with Bull, so he didn't know what to expect. As Solas looked around the room he could see the influences of both men through the chamber. As Solas looked around the room he could see the influences of both men through the chamber. By the fanciful furniture and lavish décor, it was clear the room started out as Dorian's, but dotting the quarters were the Iron Bull's possessions signifying his presence, mixing with the other man's things. Each was a visual depiction of both inhabitants' differing personalities, but instead of clashing, these things oddly complimented each other.

There was a small couch under the window sill, and Solas decided to sleep there. He took a pillow and spare blanket from the bed and set them on the couch. After getting himself comfortable, Solas felt the weariness of the day finally hit him, and he drifted off to sleep.

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES: ****JUST INCASE YOU IGNORED THE MESSAGE AT THE TOP MAKE SURE YOU CHECK OUT MINE AND FLAMEWING80'S CROSSOVER FIC "FATES ENTWINED" LOCATED ON MY PAGE!**

**Qunlat Translations**

**Mertam: Light boot. **

**This is Iron Bull's nickname for Parsey. He gave to him because when Parsey was little he would steal Dorian's boots and wear them.**

**REVIEWS, FAVS, AND FOLLOWS ARE MUCH LOVED!**


	13. Chapter 13

**AUTHOR'S NOTE****: Sorry for the wait!**

** I apologize it has taken so long for me to update. I had been working with FlameWing on our crossover fic, not to mention I just started school. (Senior Year) also I just discovered Steven Universe and it has taken over my life ;_;**

**Hopefully I will try to update as much as possible, and feel free to spam me if you grow impatient, I see it as motivation. **

**SHOUTOUTS GO OUT TO:**** SamanthaJane13, AndrastesKnickerz, MadRam, 98, SigmaConvoy, Kiyannah, TheTrueLight, karmena-is-a-fairy, The Third Biker Scholar, jaffa3, Lexigal1984, She the Fallen, Kels10125, 00ninjastitch00, and all you other lovelies who have been so supportive and wonderful.**

**Anywho, on with the story!**

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"You can't deny it, can you?"

Solas had to give this one credit, it was tenacious. "I have no need for you. Leave me."

"You won't be able to hide it forever. She will figure it out."

A furrow came to Solas's face. He had not been in the Fade long when the fear demon appeared before him. The demon's appearance was similar to an emaciated child, with sallow grey skin and stringy dark hair that hung in its face like black seaweed. Wrapped in dark, stained rags, it sat hunched on its spindly, long legs, looking up at Solas with large, black eyes.

"I have no business with you, Fear. Away with you."

Fear cocked its head at an unnatural angle. "Do you still feel the guilt? She was your friend, and you _betrayed_ her."

Solas's eyes narrowed. Why was this demon so persistent? Usually Solas had no trouble getting rid of demons trying to tempt him. This one however, did not want to leave it seemed.

"The guilt is eating away at you, it is rotting within you. You betrayed her, dear Mythal. _Murderer_-"

"You know nothing," Solas snapped. In the back of his mind was a voice telling him he was taking the demon's bait, but Fear had triggered him. "I was powerless, little more than a mortal. I needed my full strength if I was to be of any help to the People. Mythal understood this. If there had been another way…"

"Why help the People? They have no love for you. Dread Wolf they call you."

"I care not what they think. Their words will not hinder me."

"What about _hers_?"

Solas stiffened.

Fear crawled further towards him. Its doll-like eyes blinked slowly. Its voice, like its face, remained emotionless. "What will she do when she finds out what you are? Will she be disgusted? Horrified?"

"Silence."

"Every pain she suffered, every trauma, every tear was your doing."

"It was Coryphaeus-"

"Whose power you provided. What will she think when the man she loved was not only the monster of her people's tales, but the one who fuelled the madman who almost destroyed the world?"

"I've had enough of you."

"What will happen when she realizes what the girl is?"

Solas's eyes widened. Lori.

"She is a half blood. She will never be normal, and she will discover this eventually. Will she think the girl a mistake? An abomination-"

"Enough!" Solas snarled.

Fear smiled. Within its black, shrivelled lips were small needle-like teeth. "Yours is a fear long since brewing. Has this all been worth it? Will the elvhen ever rise from the slums? What will happen to your little group while you're away? Melda can't possibly keep order forever. Will you ever be more than a villain? Can she ever forgive you for every lie you told-?"

"I said enough!"

"_You have no place here."_

Fear cried out and writhed when the blinding light struck it. The demon hissed and bore its broken teeth.

_"Leave, creature." _

Fear turned to Solas, its oil eyes cold. "You are well to fear," it whispered.

The demon scurried away and Solas let out a breath. He looked upon the newcomer. "_Ma serannas_," he said.

As Mercy approached him, the Fade slowly transformed into her stained glass chamber.

_"You know better than to keep vermin like that in your presence,"_ said Mercy.

"I know," Solas replied.

Mercy stared at Solas, and tilted her horned head to the side. _"What is troubling you, old friend?"_

Solas sighed. "Many things."

_"You know you can heed my counsel whenever you are troubled,"_ said Mercy.

"I know."

Mercy looked at him, knowing. _"You would rather I was another."_ It was not a question.

Solas rubbed his forehead. "It's times like these that I remember just how much I miss it." Three years. Even after all that time the loss of Wisdom still burned deep in his chest. His closest friend, his most loyal confidant, lost to the ignorance of fools whose fiery deaths did nothing to satisfy the hole in Solas's heart.

_ "Wisdom was the oldest of us and the wisest as well. Their loss has been hard."_

"Yes," said Solas.

_ "But just because Wisdom is gone, does not mean that you cannot find council in the Fade," _Mercy reminded him.

"_Ir abelas._ You were probably the second one I confided in behind Wisdom."

_"And now I am the first. Tragic how it came to be, but I am glad I can help you, dear Solas."_

Solas sighed. "Fear was right, what is going to become of the others if I'm in Skyhold?" Solas had not spent all of his three years in the wilderness and in the Fade. Once he absorbed Mythal's power and regained his powers, Solas began to go from Alienage to Alienage, trying to raise up resistance to the abuses and torment of the elves. Not a true rebellion, not yet, but the seedlings of defiance. He managed to develop a small following when he discovered Mordolwen's plot. He left Melda, an elven woman who had been one of his first supporters, in charge of keeping the group connected while he went to Skyhold.

_ "Have faith. You have brought the taste of strength to their lips, and you know the girl to be reliable. Trust in her, she knows her people."_

"That's all I can do for now," Solas said. Melda could handle it; he wouldn't have left her in charge if he didn't believe that.

_"There is more, I can feel it,"_ said Mercy.

Solas sighed. He would rather drop the subject, but he knew Mercy could see through him.

"My immortality is going to be a problem, there is no way around that. How am I to explain to Nimwen why I stay this age while she grows old? What am I to do when she-" Solas didn't even want to finish his sentence. The thought was too much to bear.

_"Dies?"_ Mercy finished for him.

He flinched.

_ "Death is a part of life, Solas."_

"Not for me," he said bitterly. "Death is a dance I am not allowed to join in. All I can do is watch from the side-lines as others dance in the circle until their feet grow weary and they take their final rest."

He palmed his eyes. "Was I foolish in thinking this can work?"

_"Would you rather have never met her at all? To have never felt her love? That the girl was never born?"_

"No, I will never regret Nimwen and I, nor Lori's birth." He sighed. "It is the hardships I have caused them that I regret. What will become of Lori? She is only half of my blood, but does this mean that she shall inherit my immortality? What of my other powers? If Lori is like me, she will never be able to fit in amongst the People, and if she is indeed immortal, she will also have to watch the people she loves grow up and die without her." He bowed his head. "This is my fault. If I wasn't her father-"

_ "Without you she would not be alive,"_ Mercy interrupted. She put her large hands on his shoulders. _"Many paths there are, and many possibilities lie in each one. Fear not about what may become of her. So long as you are there to guide her, she shall thrive."_

"If she does inherit even some of my powers, I will have to teach her to control them." Solas crossed his arms. "Which means I'll have to tell Nimwen the truth. It seems no matter what that she is bound to find out. Should I tell her now and risk being kicked out of hers and Lori's lives, or keep up the charade now and only confess once the evidence has been brought to light?"

_"What you need to ask yourself is what is it that keeps you from telling her the truth?"_

Solas snorted. "Is that a joke? I cannot just tell her the truth."

_"You do not trust her?"_

"I trust her with my life!"

_ "But not your name?"_

"That is not my name, not anymore. You are making this far too complicated."

_ "It is you who makes things more tangled than they should be, dear wolf. For you see, the one you do not trust is yourself. Though this is for good reason."_

"'Good reason?'"

_"In your mind, you have not done enough good that would make Nimwen forgive you should the truth come to light. Redeem yourself by continuing to do good in the world. Whether this makes you worth forgiveness in the eyes of your love, is up to her."_

Solas sighed. "You're right." Solas conceded.

_"Solas?"_

That wasn't Mercy.

Solas looked around as he tried to look for the source of the voice, but it was only he and Mercy in the stain-glass chamber.

_"Solas?"_

"Who are you? What do you want?" Solas demanded. He looked to the spirit.

"Mercy, what is going on?"

_"Solas?!"_

_ "A voice calling you back,"_ Mercy replied.

"What does that mean-?" Before Solas could get his answer he felt something strike him in the head, and suddenly the world went white.

Solas jerked forward and his forehead collided with something hard. "Ow!" he winced as he fell back onto his pillow.

"Maker's breath Solas, you nearly gave me a concussion!"

Solas blinked as his vision came into focus. "Dorian?"

The altus rolled his eyes. "No, it's Empress Celene herself," he jeered.

"What are you doing?" Solas asked, rubbing his cheek where Dorian had smacked him awake.

"No, the question is what are you doing sleeping on my couch?"

Solas finally realized his situation. Dorian crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed.

"I can explain." Solas said.

"Please do."

"Bull asked me to watch Parsey, and when it came time to put him to bed I didn't know whether to just leave him by himself, so I decided to-"

"Wait, you were watching Parsey!?" Dorian squawked. His eyes widened. "How did you get charged with watching my son? Where's Bull?"

"He's on a mission with the Chargers-"

"He left? While I was in Redcliffe? _Venhedis_, I am going to kill him…"

Dorian turned on his heel and headed out the door. Solas detangled himself from his blanket and followed the altus who made his way into his son's room.

"Parsey?"

The little boys groaned and lifted his head up. "What'th going on-daddy!" Parsey beamed when he saw his father standing in the doorway. He scrambled out of bed and hugged Dorian around his waist. "You're home!"

"Yes, and it's good to see you too." Dorian knelt down in front of Parsey and looked the boy over.

Parsey tilted his head. "Daddy, what are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing," Dorian said as he lifted up Parsey's arm, as if expecting to find marks. He finished his inspection. "Were you alright yesterday?"

"I had fun! Mithter Tholath was real nithe." The half-Qunari smiled at Solas. "Morning Mithter Tholath."

"Good morning, Parsey," answered the elf.

"Darling, what did you and Solas do yesterday?"

Parsey tilted his head, thinking. "Well, we watched the tholdiers, we found thome cool rockth…oh! And he helped me make thith!" Parsey turned around and ran back to his bed.

Solas saw the worry lines on Dorian's face fade, but not completely. To Solas the idea of the Altus as the over-worrying parent was not unbelievable, but it was still so different from the man he knew three years ago. Once again he realized time once again passed on without him.

Parsey reached inside his bedside table and pulled out his picture. He presented it to Dorian with a proud little smile. "Look! I made it for Lori'th birthday."

"This is lovely," Dorian said as he looked over the drawing. "And Solas helped you make this?"

"Uh-huh," Parsey nodded. "He'th really good. He made a pretty picture of mith Nimwen."

"I see." Dorian stood up. "Dear, Solas and I need to step out for a talk. Why don't you get dressed and then we'll go down to get some breakfast, alright?"

"Okay. Ith mithter Tholath coming?"

"Maybe." Dorian turned to the other mage and gestured towards the door. "Solas."

Solas followed the Tevinter out of the child's room, and waited until the Altus closed the door before he spoke.

"Dorian I assure you, Parsey was safe with me. I would never let harm come to him."

"You seem to have a habit of letting harm come to people."

The words were like bee stings.

Dorian's eyes softened. "Sorry, that was uncalled for. Just understand, Solas, whether you meant to or not you hurt somebody very close to me, and it's hard to just let that go."

"I don't need you to let it go," said Solas. "I deserve every glare and insult, and I will apologize as many times as it takes to prove myself to Nimwen."

Dorian sighed. "You two are both perfect and horrible for each other. This whole thing about 'gaining favour' from everybody here: nonsense. Everybody wants you to stay, except for maybe Sera or Cullen, sorry, because they know Nimwen wants you to stay. But she just doesn't trust herself with you."

"She's right," Solas mumbled bitterly.

Dorian raised a brow. "That." He pointed at Solas. "You'd best rein that in. Your self-loathing will not help you when you're trying to convince people you can be trusted. And you had better not let Lori see it. Children need to believe that their parents have everything together. Trust me on that."

"I will keep that in mind," Solas nodded.

"Dorian, about the arrangement between Nimwen and I-"

"I require nothing from you."

Solas raised a brow. "But-"

"Listen, Solas," Dorian began. "You want to gain my approval, to reconcile with me? Do it by staying with that woman and taking care of that girl. That is how you can gain my approval."

Solas looked at Dorian. He bowed his head. "Thank you, Dorian."

"Just a warning though, Nimwen is my best friend, and I love Lori like she was my own child. You hurt either of them and I will end you."

_ 'That's going to be difficult.'_ "If that should happen, I'll accept whatever punishment you see fit."

Just then the door to Parsey's room opened. The boy was dressed in a simple red shirt and brown trousers. It was hard to tell whether he had forgone fixing his hair, or if the woolly locks always looked like that. "Daddy I'm done," said the boy.

"Good, why don't we go get something to eat?" Dorian turned to Solas. "Will you be joining us?"

"Pleathe?" Parsey asked shyly.

Solas chuckled. "Well I can't say 'no' to you can I?" Solas said.

The elf followed Dorian and Parsey as they headed to the Main Hall. Parsey held his father's hand and regaled him with the details of his day with Solas. Dorian asked Parsey if he'd worked on his spelling and Solas saw the boy's shoulders tense.

"We did," Solas stepped in.

"Oh, thank you, Solas. How did he do?"

In the corner of his eye Solas could see Parsey looking at him with fear. "He was very enthusiastic. In my experience children his age wouldn't have even told me they had lessons to be done. There were a few issues but he just needs a bit more practice." He purposely left out the incident with the ink and Parsey's meltdown. The boy had stressed over the situation enough, and didn't need a repeat. Solas would probably inform Dorian later, without Parsey present, in hopes that future lessons would go better if Dorian was aware of Parsey's anxiety and fears of disappointing his father.

"That's good to hear," Dorian said. He looked down at Parsey. "Thank you for doing your lessons even without me, that was very good of you."

"Th-thankth, daddy," Parsey stuttered.

Once Dorian turned his head, Parsey looked over his shoulder at Solas, his eyes full of relief and gratitude.

Solas put his finger to his lips, and winked.

Parsey smiled.

When they entered Main Hall, the long tables were beginning to fill with people looking to get breakfast. The smell of food perfumed the air as servant and soldier alike sat together enjoying their meals and morning chatter.

"Can I have grapeth?" Parsey asked Dorian.

"I'm sure we can find some." Dorian yawned. "Need to find the coffee, first though," the mage mumbled.

"Think it's over by the toast."

Solas turned around. "Good morning, Krem." he greeted the warrior with a small bow of his head.

"You too," Krem replied.

"Krem!" Parsey ran to the man and hugged his knees.

Krem chuckled and ruffled Parsey's hair. "Hey there, lil man," he smiled.

Parsey pulled away from the Tevinter, eyes wide. "Wait, if you back, that meanth papa'th back!"

"Yeah, but Chief's still outside-"

"Parsey wait!" Dorian managed to catch the little boy before he could ran out of the main hall. "Don't you run off without me."

"But I wanna thee papa," Parsey pouted.

"You can wait until he comes here," Dorian said.

"Chief said he had to care of things in the lower courtyard," Krem said.

Parsey's wiggled in his father's grasp. "We gotta go now, daddy, or I won't thee papa 'til forever!" he exclaimed.

"Alright, alright, stop your squirming," Dorian said as he set Parsey down. "We can go find him if he's not too busy."

"Yay!" Parsey cheered, jumping around in his sandals.

"You are being quite dramatic this morning," Dorian sighed.

'Wonder who he takes after?' An amused Solas thought to himself.

"Would you like to come? You can show Bull that you were a competent caregiver before I kill him."

"Very well," Solas agreed. He hadn't been hungry anyways.

They stepped out of the Main Hall and made their way down the stairs. The morning sun was still pale and the sky was a wash of orange, pink and cerulean. Solas's eyes gazed over the sight of Skyhold coming to life for the day, still amazed at how long it had been since he'd seen it. Granted three years was nothing to one who had lived millenniums, but for some reason his short time away felt like ages.

When the three of them made it to the lower courtyard, they could see Iron Bull and some of the other chargers helping to take the mounts into the stables.

"Papa!" Parsey let go of Dorian's hand and raced over to the older Qunari.

"It's only been a day," Dorian said to Solas. The Altus shook his head fondly. "You'd think he hadn't seen him in a month."

Solas watched as the little boy was scooped into Iron Bull's arms and lifted into the air. "I think it's wonderful," he said.

A small smile appeared on Dorian's lips as he watched his lover place their giggling son onto his shoulders. "Me too."

"Dorian." Iron Bull said as he and Parsey walked over to the two mages. He held Parsey's ankles while the child gripped his horns. "How was Redcliffe?"

"Before we get to that," Dorian said, arms crossed. "I want you to explain why you decided to leave Parsey with Solas _without_ telling me."

The warrior groaned. "Dorian it's fine, it's not like I was going to Emprise. It was a border check and the maid that was going to watch him got sick."

"Which is why you always have a backup."

"I did." Iron Bull nodded to Solas. "He's got my vote for him to the boss, and Parsey was looked after. Everyone wins."

Dorian pinched his brow. "_Festis bei umo canavarum_. Just plan ahead a bit more next time."

Iron Bull smirked. "Kinda hard to plan for surprise jobs, but I'll get right on it."

Solas watched the exchange between the two, silent. Theirs was a relationship quite different from his and Nimwen's. Most would assume the two men's personalities clashed too much to form a steady bond, let alone a family. Yet differences were things to work through, not war over, sly remarks and jabs at each other translated into affections, and it was clear they cared about one another. Solas hoped they knew how fortunate they were to have each other, and had a feeling they did.

Parsey perked up, and began to wave. "Hi, Mith Thera," he said, looking behind Dorian and Solas.

The two mages turned and saw a certain yellow haired archer crouched behind them, frozen.

"Dang it, kid, I was tryin' to be hid," Sera sighed as she stood.

"What were you doing?" Dorian asked, suspicious.

"Don't matter now."

Solas looked at Sera, who returned his gaze with daggers. They had never been on friendly terms, but when she once looked at him with irritation she now looked at him with utter contempt. She was going to be the most difficult person to gain favour from, if he could at all.

"Hello, Sera," Solas said, voice calm.

The rogue glared back.

"So, how was the border check?" Dorian asked Iron Bull, apparently sensing the tension.

"Just a basic run. Though actually we ran into something rather interesting-"

"_Hissrad_?" a voice called out.

"Speaking of which." Iron Bull turned around. "I'm not _Hissrad_ anymore, remember?"

"Sorry, habit," the Qunari woman replied.

Solas studied the stranger. She stood a few inches shorter than Iron Bull, but she was still an imposing figure, notable muscles under her silver-grey skin. She wore simple leather armour, with bits of metal here and there, which was travel worn and wet from melted snow. A twisted, jagged shard of metal trying to pass itself off as a great sword was strapped to her back. Though she appeared to be in her twenties, she had dark grey hair cornrowed to her scalp; the rest of her long braids were tied at the base of her neck. She had black ram-shaped horns that were littered with nicks, and the left had a small bit of its tip missing. Most notable was the vivid purple _vitaar_ painted on her face; a stripe down the bridge of her nose, a row of dots under each of her eyes and across her brow, and two stripes that traced her prominent cheek bones and ended at the corners of her violet painted lips.

"Who is this?" Dorian asked.

"This is Peaches," said Iron Bull. "She's an old friend. We fought together in Seheron, saved each other's hides more times than I can count."

"Wouldn't have had to if you didn't keep starting shit, _Hissra_-Iron Bull."

"How did you get the name Peaches?" Solas asked.

"Blame this _qalaba_," Peaches growled, pointing a thumb at Iron Bull.

Iron Bull chuckled. "For her sweet personality, can't you tell?" he teased.

"So what brings you all the way from Seheron?" Solas asked Peaches.

"Haven't been in Seheron for two years," the Qunari woman clarified.

"Found her while doing the border check. She turned mercenary while back and I offered her a job with the Chargers," Bull explained.

"Speaking of which, Iron Bull, I would like to know where my quarters will be," Peaches said.

"Right, though I need to finish up here...Sera, you know where it is, you mind showing Peach were the Charger's stay?" Iron Bull asked the elf, who had been silent.

"S-sure," Sera stuttered.

Solas glanced over at the archer and was surprised by the odd gleam in her eyes, the way her lips were curled in a restrained smile, as if trying to hide her excitement.

Peaches' eyes looked Sera up and down. "Archer?"

Sera blinked. "Wait what?"

"You an archer? You look like one."

"Why, 'cause I'm an elf?" Sera asked, suddenly defensive.

"No, your fingers. They look like they've held a bow more than once." Peaches held up her large hands. "Never could use those. Got hands for clubbing and cutting, not that I mind. Like clubbing," Peaches smirked.

Sera grinned back, but Solas could also see a slight pinkness to her cheeks.

"You alright. Come on, I'll show you to the rest of them's rooms," Sera said, waving Peaches over.

As the two women left, Iron Bull took Parsey off of his shoulders and placed to boy on the ground. "Listen, _Mertam_. I got some things to take care of, but after that how about you and I do some sword practice?"

Parsey's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Not before he eats," Dorian cut in.

"You two go on, I'll be there in a bit," said the warrior.

Solas would have gone with Dorian and Parsey, but there was something he needed to speak to the Qunari about.

"So," Iron Bull began. "Thanks for watching Parsey for me."

"He was very well behaved," the mage replied.

"You're a smart man, so I know you're aware that this was not just some chore I had you do for me." Bull's one eye stared down at Solas. "You want to patch things up with Nimwen, and to be there for Lori. That's good. But being a father is more than just living with a kid. You have to take care of them, to protect them, be trusted to be left alone with them."

"I'm honoured you trusted me with your son," said Solas.

"I can see you're serious when you say you want to be Lori's father, and I want it to work out with you and the Boss. You just have to remember that once you become a parent, everything you do is for them. That girl is your top priority, nothing is more important than her."

Solas felt his heart twinge. How he wished it was as simple as that. So much depended on him, the very fate of the People. Perhaps it was selfish of him, putting all of that below his desire for a family. It didn't stop him from doing just that though. "I know," Solas said. "I would do anything for her. She's my daughter."

Iron Bull's eye flicked over to where Sera and Peaches had left. "Makes two of you."

Solas raised a brow. "Pardon?"

"Bet you're wondering how a soldier in Seheron ended up in the Frostbacks?"

"I am more curious how a woman was allowed to be a warrior," Solas retorted. "I thought women couldn't fight under the Qun."

"They can't," Iron Bull said. "But technically there are ways around it. The Qunari believe that the body is just a husk that stores the spirit, that we are not our flesh. Which is why unlike most folk, Qunari do not mind _Aqun-Athlok_."

"Like Lieutenant Aclassi?"

"Correct. Krem could be a soldier because his mind is that of a man, and so will be treated as such. Peach said she was _Aqun-Atlok_ and so she was allowed to become a soldier, she was just no longer seen as a woman."

"But she isn't one?"

"No, she's all woman. Just a woman who preferred fighting 'vints than being a _Tamassran_."

"So what made her stop fighting ''vints'?" Solas asked.

"She got pregnant." Iron Bull sighed. "One of her comrades knocked her up, said they were in love. The only ones allowed to breed are the _Tamassrans_, and so she had two options: turn herself in and have them get rid of the baby, or be found out and have killed the kid, have her and him be re-educated, or killed depending on how much of a fight they put up."

"Of course they would," Solas growled. He would never be able to accept the ideals of the Qun, no matter how many positives were presented to him, they weren't enough to outweigh the atrocities.

"She didn't want to give up the baby so she chose a third option. She and her man were going to escape, become _Tal-Vashoth_. She got away, he didn't; arrow to his skull."

Solas had to bite back another remark about the cruelty of the Qun. "And so she was on her own since then?" he asked instead.

"Yeah, she has a girl now, Rosha. She was getting by on small contracts when we met up. Told her she could work with the Chargers and Rosha and she could have a place to stay." Iron Bull looked at Solas. "She gave up everything for that baby, because that's what a parent is supposed to do."

"I understand."

"Just making sure." Iron Bull turned to leave. "Good luck, Solas. Don't let the Boss down."

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**Translations:**

**Elven:**

_**Ma serannas: **_**Thank you**

_**Ir abelas**_**: I'm sorry**

**Tevene****:**

_**Venhedis**_**: Curse word.**

_**Festis bei umo canavarum:**_** You will be the death of me**

**Qunlat:**

_**Mertam**_**: Little Boot, Parsey's nickname**

_**Qabala**_**: Type of cow that the Qunari breed known for its stupidity**

_**Aqun-Atlok**_**: One born one gender but living as another, term for transgender.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**PROGRESS! I'VE MADE PROGRESS! 8D**

**So if anybody has any questions, suggestions, or just want to say something, please let me know with a review, or even a PM. I love reading them and your feedback is very important.**

** Along with that, make sure to fav and follow!**


	14. Chapter 14

**ATTENTION LOYAL READERS OF AWESOME!**

**So guess who finally played Trespasser? Gues who has yet to scrape her heart off of the ground. My fellow Solasmancers feel free to join the prayer circle. So, despite the new info we've leanred from the DLC pretty much punching a bigger wall in my story than the hole in Wall Maria, I still plan on carrying on with this fic, so don't worry. The plot will pretty much remain the same, though I want to tweak small details to match with Trespasser. You guys of course won't be able to tell since you'll only be reading the final product, but I felt I should let you know that this will continue to be my own interpretation of events, with nods to our new soul-crushing canon. I also might go back and edit old chapters, whether to take into account Trespasser stuff or just if I felt like something needed fixing. If I do update a chapter I will let you guys know in the Author's Note of the newest chapter.**

**SHOUTOUTS GO OUT TO****: Eltungawng, cbred13, SunshineAndDaisies, CMippy, KitKat758, DanielleBurkex3, chriw, Ninjakitty122, blackkitsue, digitalgamer7, Daeris1225, and all of you wonderful supportive penguins out there!**

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Solas sighed in frustration, and closed the tome with more force than what was needed. He'd been pouring through all his books, trying to find some snippet of knowledge that could help him track down where Mordolwen would strike next. When Mercy warned him about Mordolwen's pursuit of the Dream Catchers, he had very little information, but the threat was serious enough to alert the Inquisition. The devices were used primarily by the priests of Dirthamen, and their locations were kept very much a secret, even from Solas. He himself was not even sure whether or not those elvhen of the past ever managed to craft the Dream Weaver before the fall of Elvhenan. He tried to seek out any ruins connected to Dirthamen, where perhaps Mordolwen could be collecting her Dream Catchers, but the ones he found were either in utter ruin, or lost to even his memory. He vainly hoped some of his tomes might have mention of a sight or even the Dream Catchers themselves, but it was a futile effort, given modern lore of the elves were but scraps of scraps.

He set the book on his desk and leaned back into his chair with a heavy sigh. He longed to know how this Mordolwen knew of the Dream Catchers, and what she planned to do with them. Without a Dream Weaver, she could do little more than store spirits and dreams conjured in the Fade, but the idea of her tampering with innocent spirits and the balance of the Veil was something Solas would not stand for. If there really was a Dream Weaver though, the only one who would know for sure was Dirthamen himself, but he...

Solas pinched his brow, feeling the seeds of a headache growing.

"Padron me?"

Solas turned his neck to see a guard enter the rotunda. "What is it?" he asked.

"Your presence has been requested in the gardens."

"By whom?"

"Guard-Captain Rutherford."

Solas raised a brow. Captain Rutherford, Cullen's wife? Interesting. "Did the Captain say what she needed from me?"

"Just your presence in the gardens."

"Very well. Thank you."

The guard bowed and exited the room, the clinking of his boots echoing on the rotunda walls. Solas rose from his seat, glancing at the pile of books on his desk, before setting out for the gardens. He did not know what to expect when he finally met Captain Rutherford. As he walked down the hall, he was growing more and more curious about this enigma that was Captain Rutherford, formerly Captain Trevelyan.

He entered the gardens, and began to scan the grounds. He did not know what she looked like, so he searched for someone who seemed like they would fit the role. A chorus of laughter caught his attention. Sitting at the table beneath the stone gazebo was Josephine, Dagna, and a redheaded woman who was banging her fist on the table as she laughed.

"Josie that's crazy!" Solas could hear the woman cackle from halfway across the garden.

'_Is that Captain Rutherford?'_ Solas wondered. He approached the group of women, hoping to find out.

Josephine perked up when she saw the elf. "Oh, Solas, what are you doing here-?"

"I invited him," the ginger woman said. "I felt like it was about time, don't you think?" She turned in her seat and looked up at Solas, holding out her hand. "Captain Franne-Louise Rutherford," she said with a toothy grin.

"A pleasure, Captain," Solas replied as he took her hand. He was surprised by her iron grip, and when she shook his hand it moved his whole arm.

Captain Rutherford was handsome woman, with an elegant jaw and straight nose covered in freckles. Her eyes were a light green colour that complimented her round ginger hair that reached below her jaw. Most notable was her pronounced belly, hidden under the fabric of a simple green dress.

Solas expected her to let go of his hand, but instead she held it as she looked him up and down, green eyes narrowed in concentration. She let go of his hand so that she could use the table to push herself to her feet. "Stay," she said to Solas as she began to circle around him.

Solas looked to Josephine and Dagna for some sort of clarification. The dwarf woman was giggling around a pastry in her hand, and a sheepish Josephine gestured for him to just go along with it. Solas felt like a piece of equipment being inspected as the human woman eyed him, mumbling to herself. When she was done she stood in front of him, hands on her hips.

She nodded. "Yup, I can see it."

Solas raised a brow. "Beg your pardon?"

"Why Nim chose you," the Captain explained. "You have 'library lark' written all over you, and Nimmy's always been a don't-judge-a-book, pun intended, kinda gal, so she'd be fine with the egghead."

"F-Franne?!" Josephine sputtered.

"Jojo look at it, I just want to make bacon and toast right now." Franne turned back to Solas. "No offense by the way, you make bald look good."

Solas managed to hide ire. "None taken, Captain," he said calmly.

The ginger scoffed. "Franne's fine. Now come on, we got tea!" Franne said as she dragged Solas to sit beside her.

Solas looked at the tea pot in the middle of the table and grimaced. "No, thank you, tea doesn't agree with me."

Franne laughed. "Frost-Tits was right, you do make a face at it!"

Solas's eyes widened. "What did you call her?"

"Relax, Nimmy doesn't mind."

"Franne is fond of...colourful expressions," Josephine tried to explain.

Franne shrugged. "Makes everyone feel equal when you take formality out of it."

"I think it's nice," said Dagna.

"Thanks, Dag. So…" Franne smirked at Solas. "You're the fucker who won Nim's heart, and other things."

"Must you use such language?" Josephine asked.

"What? I say what I mean and I don't lie or sugar coat anything," Franne said back. "If more people just spoke their minds and weren't afraid about appearances or being themselves, we'd have a lot less arseholes around."

"I agree," Solas replied. He was unsure coming in what to expect from Skyhold's Guard-Captain, but Franne was far from what he imagined. Solas had to assume that she was good at her job if she was able to speak to, and about, her superiors in such a manner, though Solas imagined that Nimwen, as forgiving as she could be, also had a part in it. Still, Franne did not seem a mean spirited person, rather just a brutally honest one. He was amused by the woman, and despite her bluntness and word choice, she seemed a decent, and at the very least entertaining, woman. It also made him ever more curious how she ended up the wife of the Commander.

"So was this meeting just for introduction's sake, or is there anything else you need from me, Franne?" Solas asked as he eyed a tart.

"Take it," Franne said, seeing where his gaze was. "As for the other thing, I just wanted to meet you. I've always wondered about Nim's mystery man. Not what I expected, but you're not ugly so that's good. Course I knew you couldn't be ugly, Lori's too pretty to have an ugly dad."

"I'm glad you found me not ugly," Solas said with an amused smile.

"You're welcome." Franne stroked her stomach with her hand.

"How much longer until the baby comes?" Dagna asked.

"I'm bound to pop sooner or later," Franne replied. "Though I'm hoping for later. I like to think if I have more time I'll figure out a way to give birth without pain."

"You'll be waiting a while then," Josephine replied, sipping her tea.

"What about you, Jo? You and beardy gonna have kids?" Franne asked.

The Ambassador blinked. "G-goodness that's a ways off. We haven't even gotten married yet."

"Because that's all it takes," Franne smirked, gesturing to her stomach.

"I think you would make an excellent mother," Solas said to the Antivan.

Josephine blushed. "Thank you, Solas."

Franne suddenly gasped. "Andraste's tits." she beamed as she stood up. She waddled away from the table with her arms stretched. "Peach Pit!"

"Look at this, Franne the Man in a dress," Peaches laughed as she was hugged. "You got fat, Franne."

"And you're still a bitch," Franne replied. "One with a baby," she said as she eyed the small being in Peaches' arms.

"Ooh lemme see, lemme see!" Dagna squealed as she stood up.

"Sit down, they're coming over," Franne told the dwarf. Franne reclaimed her seat beside Solas and Peaches took the one next to Josephine.

"Oh she's so cute!" Dagna cooed.

"Thank you," Peaches replied as she adjusted her hold on the child.

Solas took a closer look. The baby Qunari looked to be about one year old. She had her mother's silver-grey skin, and was pudgy in the face like most babies. She had thin wisps of black hair and calf's eyes that stared at the women surrounding her with curious confusion.

"What's her name?" asked Franne.

"Rosha," Peaches replied.

The baby let out a small yawn, and the women all cooed.

"She just woke up from her nap," said Peaches.

"She looks just like you," Franne stated. "I feel bad for her," she teased the Qunari.

"How is it you two know each other, exactly?" Solas inquired.

"Yes, I too am curious," Josephine added.

"Before I joined the Inquisition I tried my luck at being a mercenary. Peaches joined the group shortly before I left it. We did some jobs together."

"She's crazy, but she knows how to use a sword," Peaches said to Solas.

"Hey, crazy people make the best fighters, because nobody wants to fight a crazy person," Franne retorted with a wink.

"I suppose that is one way to put it," Solas said.

The women sat and made small talk, with Solas sitting in silence, occasionally speaking up when somebody talked to him; usually this was Franne. He tried many times to excuse himself, feeling a bit out of place, but the ginger haired woman insisted, and given her husband's current opinion of him, Solas felt it wise not to give her any reason to speak ill of him. It was an odd experience, to say the least. He wondered if Nimwen ever joined in these little meetings; knowing her, it would not be unlikely. It brought Solas comfort to know that Nimwen was surrounded by friends that could let her take a break from the Inquisition, to enjoy the simplicity of tea and sweets and the company of other women.

Solas's thoughts drifted back to the times when Nimwen would join him in his study. They would have a stack of books or scrolls between them and speculate about magical theory or history, or share their opinions of a novel. Some days she would come when he was painting. She was no artist, but she liked helping him mix paints, or hand him brushes when they were out of reach. Mostly she sat in his chair and just watched him as he painted. Any other time he would have been irritated by eyes watching him work, but hers was a comforting presence.

"Solas!"

The elf blinked and was brought out of his thoughts.

Green eyes looked at him curiously. "Some deep thinking going on?" Franne asked.

"Forgive me, I was distracted, yes," the mage replied.

"Well, just wanted you to know that you are being summoned over there."

Solas followed Franne's finger, then raised his brow upon what-or who-he saw. "I must be excusing myself, ladies." He stood from his seat and bowed. "Enjoy the rest of your afternoon."

"Nice meeting you," Franne grinned. "Make sure you stay good, or I'll have to fuck you up."

"Franne!"

"Jojo you know I always say fuck."

"Not in front of the baby."

"Like she's gonna remember."

The rest of the conversation was lost as Solas walked away from the table of women. He crossed the garden until he stood face to face with the one who had been waving him over.

"Been awhile, hasn't it, Chuckles?"

"Indeed it has, Master Tethras."

Varric uncrossed his arms and straightened up from the wall he was leaning on. "So, you settled in alright?"

"I've managed," Solas replied. "How have you been?"

"Oh, it's been fine. Wrote a few new books, been working on the reconstruction in Kirkwall, got made Viscount, bought the rest of that beat farm in Rivain-"

"You were made Viscount?" Solas interrupted, eyebrow raised.

"Surprise. As it turns out, you fund enough reconstruction efforts in a City-State, the nobles give you the worst job they can think of."

"I am still surprised that such a position would fall to you."

"You and me both, Chuckles," Varric said with a bitter smirk. "I think the nobility figured after Dumar and Perin,_"What's the worse that could happen if we put the dwarf in charge?" _They voted me in because I got the harbour and buisnesses up and running again. They want shit fixed, and I can do that," the dwarf chuckled.

"If this is the case, why are you in Skyhold and not in Kirkwall?"

"They're still sorting out all the necessary paperwork and noble bullshit, so I have two more months of freedom left. Good thing to. I would have hated to miss Sage's birthday."

Solas felt his heart pang. "What is it you wanted, Varric?"

"What? Can't two old friends catch up for lost time?"

"Is that all this is?"

"Course not," Varric chuckled. "So, this whole deal the Inquisitor has arranged," Varric began. "It seems you owe me a favour."

"And I take it you have something planned for me to?" asked Solas, suspicious.

Varric smirked. "Follow me," he said as he began to walk.

Solas followed behind the dwarf as he passed through the gardens. They entered the Main Hall before leaving the keep and walked the courtyard until they stood across from the stairs that led to the kitchens.

"What are we doing here?" Solas asked.

"Just wait," Varric said with a smirk. He looked up at the kitchen entrance. "Alright, watch."

Solas looked up at the door, which was opening. His eyes widened when he saw who was walking out. "Cole?"

The boy hadn't changed a bit. He was still all lanky limbs and messy yellow hair under his wide-brimmed hat. He was holding a wooden crate in his arms as he began to descend the stairs, accompanied by somebody Solas didn't recognize. He looked to Varric for an explanation, but the dwarf's response was that Solas should just keep watching. Solas did just that.

The girl followed Cole down the stairs, a burlap sack hugged in her arms. She was a human girl, a servant if her clothes were an indication. She was a homely young woman, with small eyes and a face brown with freckles and dirt. She wore a white kerchief around her head, with frizzy brown hair puffing up under it. Cole and the girl had yet to notice Varric and Solas, even as they neared enough for the elf to hear their conversation.

"Y-you can set it there," the girl said, pointing to a small stack of crates.

"Okay," Cole replied as he set the crate on the pile. "Would you like me to carry that?" the young man asked, pointing to the sack.

"What, oh n-no, no it's fine. You shouldn't have even carried that crate, my job, my job," the girl stammered. Hers was a small, nasally voice, as fidgety as she was.

Cole cocked his head to the side. "You don't want me to help?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant."

"Because I like to help."

"Me too, I-I mean thanks. For the help. I mean. Thanks." The girl bowed her head, her hands fumbling around the sack in her arms. "Y-you always know when I need help."

"I watch you to see when work gets hard."

The girl's brow rose. "What?"

Solas could see Cole stiffen.

"Wait hold on that was wrong," Cole muttered. "I meant...I pay attention. To you. In case you have to lift heavy things. You like helping them, but you can't if you're tired from lifting things."

"Oh." The servant shifted on her feet. She bowed her head, but Solas could see the sheepish smile on her face. "Th-thank you. You-you're always so nice." The girl straightened her back, hugging the burlap sack closer to her chest. "Well, I-I have to get this to the mages. I was going to f-feed the cats later though, did you-I mean if you don't want to-"

"I can help," Cole offered.

"O-okay." The girl leaned in, as if to hug him, but then looked down at her hands, still holding the burlap sack. She frowned. Then, it what Solas could only assume was some sort of awkward, substitute hug, she nudged Cole's shoulder with hers. Without another word, she turned on her heel and swiftly strode away, as if in a hurry.

Though he couldn't see his eyes, Solas could tell Cole was watching as the servant walked away. The young man then looked down at his shoulder, poking where she had nudged it.

"Get the picture now?" Varric asked Solas.

Solas had an inkling of an idea, but wasn't sure if he believed it. "What are you insinuating, Varric?"

"Come on, you'd have to be blind to not see that he likes her."

Solas scoffed. "You can't be serious."

"I am. The kid's more human now. If he can eat, sleep, and shit now, is it that hard to believe he could develop feelings for someone?"

The reminder of what happened to Cole made Solas frown. It was one of the few times Solas had been legitimately angry with Nimwen. "What makes you thinks he has interest in her other than helping?"

"I know these things, Chuckles. I think Coles likes her and I want you to-"

"Solas?"

The dwarf and elf looked up and saw Cole in front of them.

"I saw you when you first arrived, but you were busy. Then I was busy. But now I can talk to you."

"Hello Cole," Solas said.

"I missed you," said Cole.

The elf smiled. "As did I." He was caught off guard when Cole suddenly hugged him. Solas grunted when it felt like there were two pythons crushing his torso.

"I know you're happy to see him, Kid, but Solas needs to breathe," Varric chuckled.

Seeming to realize how hold on Solas, Cole immediately let go. "Sorry," the rogue apologized. "I was excited because I missed you. I said that already."

"How have you been, Cole?" Solas asked. "How has human life treated you?" One of the things that worried Solas the most when he first left Skyhold, was Cole. The young man had still been adjusting to his newfound humanity when the elf left, and seeing the spirit struggling with this new nature pained and saddened him.

"It is better now," said Cole. "At first it was hard, but now it's not so strange. Varric helped me. Others too."

"I'd never leave the Kid hanging," Varric told Solas.

"You're wondering if I can still hear them, the thoughts," Cole said.

"Can you?" Solas asked.

"No, it's quiet. I can still sense things; can guess what people might be feeling. Varric says that most people can read moods, I just do it better."

"Does this bother you?"

Cole shook his head. "I can't hear the pains, or make people forget, but I still help. I can remember things, learn how people think. I unknot new knots, ones I didn't understand before." Cole smiled. "It's alright. I don't hurt anymore. I realized the hurt was just feeling."

Solas looked at, really looked at him. There was this spark, this life in them, which Solas had never seen before. The shadows under his eyes were gone, and his skin now had more colour than before. His face had filled in some, and was no longer as gaunt. What took Solas most aback though, was how the smile on Cole's face was not the small subtle one he remembered. It was a _grin_, one that reached his eyes. Standing before him was still the same Cole that he knew three years ago, minor details aside, but the young man in front of him radiated a liveliness Solas did not think possible. It was like someone had wiped the dust off a lamp, letting the light within shine to its fullest.

"I'm glad you're happy Cole," Solas said, and he meant it. That was all he'd ever wanted for the former spirit. He'd been so worried that becoming human would ruin the unique being that Cole was, turn him into something he was not. But it appeared he'd been wrong.

"Thank you," Cole replied.

"So, Kid," Varric cut. "Who was that girl?"

"Hortense," Cole explained. "But she wants to be called Horty, because she thinks her name is ugly. Which is not true. There are no ugly names, just ugly things."

"So you and she are looking friendly."

"She doesn't like to ask for help, but likes the help. I help her with heavy things and she lets me help her feed the cats. Cats like me now," Cole smiled at Solas.

"She seems nice," Varric said.

"She is. She likes being useful, but doesn't like the attention. She helps the surgeon when the patients need food or water, because they are too sick to remember her. She likes cats because they can't talk."

"Huh, looks like you two have something in common then," Varric said, casting Solas a suggestive smirk.

Solas crossed his arms, but the dwarf ignored his stare and turned back to Cole.

"So do you have any...feelings about her?" Varric inquired.

Cole tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"When you're talking to her, or if you happen to think about her, do you ever feel something that you don't feel with other people?"

"Varric this is ridiculous," said Solas.

"Actually," Cole said, looking uncomfortable. He shuffled on his feet. "You said I should come to you when things are confusing," Cole said to Varric.

"That's right, so lay it on me, Kid."

"I…" Cole struggled to find the words. "I like when I can help Horty, more than others. It, I feel warm around her. It's like when I was with Rhys, or the Inquisitor, or Lorien, but it's different?" Cole twiddled his fingers. "She, she doesn't like herself very much, and I want to make that change. I get feelings in my chest, and I don't know why."

"I'm pretty sure you have feelings for her," said Varric. "Romantic feelings."

Cole's eyes widened, as if he hadn't even considered that as a possibility. "I…" His pale eyes looked to Solas. "How do you know?"

Solas was taken aback. "Love is…" He wracked his mind to find the right words. "Love is caring for someone, but differently than you would care for your friends or your kin. It's feeling both completely content and utterly on edge whenever they are near. You want to make them happy, whether from your words or from your actions. You feel guilt at the thought of troubling the person with your mistakes, your troubles, and yet you want to keep them close. You realize this person holds more sway over you then you would care to admit. The littlest action from them can make you feel elated, or even distraught. The idea of the hold they have on you, it's both a terrifying notion as well as a wonderful feeling."

"Damn, Chuckles, you sure you shouldn't be the writer?" Varric chuckled.

"Yes, I understand-I think," Cole said. "Warmth, blossoming in my chest, don't know when it happened but now it's all I feel. But fear, don't want to harm her, but she needs help too. Lonely, like me, let's be lonely together. Prettier when she smiles, the smell of mint cool as the touch of her hands. Horty doesn't smell like mint, but I think it's the same...but it's less than you and the Inquisitor. No, not less. New, I think."

"It takes time, Kid," Varric said. "We don't expect you to be head over heels just yet. Gotta start somewhere."

"B-but what do I do?" Cole asked. "I-I remember helping people when there love was troubled, but I never understood what the actions meant. I still don't."

"That's what we're here for," Varric assured the other rogue. "We'll show you the ropes and you have yourself a date with her in no time."

Cole looked up at Solas. "You'll help?"

Solas glanced at Varric, who gave him a knowing smirk. The elf sighed. "Of course, Cole," he said. Even if this wasn't a part of his deal with Varric, Solas would have been willing to assist Cole. He'd grown to care for Cole during their time at in the Inquisition, and any effort to assist his continual transition into human life was something Solas would count himself a part of.

"Great, so there we have it. You help me help Cole, he gets the girl, you get two of us marked off your list, everyone wins."

"The Inquisitor said I must have you do something for me, to atone, but I'm not mad; I understand why you did it, but she said I still should do it. This can work," Cole nodded.

"Very well, this seems fair," Solas agreed.

Varric grinned. "Alright. Come on Kid. First step: how to talk to girls."

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES: ****COLE IS GETTING A GIRL 8D **

**At least we hope he is. Also just fyi, Sage is Varric's nickname for Lori, and was thought of by the lovely Flamewing80. The idea behind it is that sage is a soft, gentle plant, and is also meant to be ironic since sage is supposed to be calming and Lori is anything but calm XD**

**Welp, thanks for reading and tune in for the next chapter!**


	15. Chapter 15

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: WHAT'S THIS? BACK TO BACK UPDATES?!**

**I am too good to you lot XD then again given how long of a hiatus I've had, y'all deserve a treat.**

**Anywho, on with the story!**

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"Now remember Lori, when we go inside you must listen to Madame Bonfoy, be still, and most importantly you mustn't tamper with anything. Is that clear?"

"Okay, Aunt Viv!"

"Vivienne, darling."

Nimwen sighed, and sent a prayer to the Creators that her child was actually telling the truth. The two women plus Lori made their way down the cobblestone street, the noon sun shining cheerfully onto the colourful maze that was Val Royeaux. Nimwen could sense the lingering gazes of those they passed by; Vivienne was a presence easily recognized, Nimwen even more so. Lori toddled along beside the Inquisitor, her small hand held in her mother's faithful grasp. The little girl decided that she was becoming a big girl, and that she didn't need to be carried all the time. While Nimwen would normally encourage her daughter's growing independence, after the incident that transpired days ago, she wanted to keep her daughter in her arms at all times. When Josephine and Blackwall appeared out of the blue, with Lori on the warrior's shoulders, Nimwen had been in a state of raw nerves and utter relief she hadn't felt since she defeated Coryphaeus. After Lori retold her story, from the confrontation in the doll shop to the appearance of the so called 'Bellamy', her rescue by an Inquisition agent, to her meeting up with Josephine and Blackwall, Nimwen wanted nothing more than to pack up Lori and take her daughter back to Skyhold. She didn't, though, for a number of reasons. One, they had yet to meet with Vivienne's seamstress, and Nimwen knew the planning Vivienne had to go through to get this appointment, and she didn't want to deprive Lori of her birthday gift. The second, and more frustrating reason, was that she knew keeping Lori hidden away in Skyhold was not a solution, nor something Nimwen wanted to do to the girl. Whether she liked it or not, Lori was a part of the world beyond Skyhold's gates, and she was not about to deprive her daughter of experiencing that world just to sate her own fears.

This did not mean precautions had not been taken, oh no. Though she did not come with an escort, Nimwen was not naive enough to believe that the Inquisition's eyes and ears were not scattered throughout Val Royeaux. On the night after Lori's disappearance, Nimwen sent out a missive, a mere whisper on the wind if anything. She slept knowing that come sunrise, the agents hidden amongst the masked populace of the city would be on alert, bloodhounds looking out for a sign of prey.

Nimwen knew well that not all the eyes she sensed glanced her way with gossiper's intrigue or noble's machinations, and that among them were those who watched with duty, protection, and the intent to serve. They were her watchdogs in a city ruled by lions, and they were the reason she let Lori walk beside her.

"Here we are," said Vivienne.

The trio stopped outside a well-kept boutique, one that Nimwen had only been to once before.

"Haven't been here since I had to get a dress for the ball at Halamshiral," Nimwen said as they walked inside.

A small bell chimed as they entered the shop. The air was cool and smelled of a mixture of many fabrics, with a flowery perfumed laid above it like frosting on a cake. There were a multitude of mannequins stood on pedestals, dressed in a garments ranging from simple finery to extravagant ballroom attire.

"Have a seat, dear," Vivienne said, gesturing to the elegant red couch sat against the wall. "She will have heard the bell."

Nimwen lifted Lori onto the couch and sat down beside her. Vivienne took the high back chair seated next to the sofa, crossing her legs.

Shortly after, an elven girl in a simple brown dress entered from a back room. "Oh, Madame Vivienne," she said, her eyes widening at the sight of the enchantress. They widened even further when she laid eyes on Nimwen. "A-and Lady Inquisitor!"

"Madame Bonfoy is expecting us," Vivienne said.

"Y-yes, yes, of course," the elven girl said, quickly bowing. She turned and walked towards the back door. "Madame, we have-"

"I heard the bell, girl, I know!"

The elf girl flinched. "It-it's the Inquisitor and Madame-"

"Do you think me daft? I know who I am expecting."

From the same room the elven girl came from, entered a plumage of purple skirts and wicked tongues that went by the name of Madame Bonfoy.

"Ah, Lady Vivienne," Madame Bonfoy said with a small bow of her head. She wore a dark purple gown with a bustling skirt of taffeta. She had a stark white mask with lips painted plum and though it hid her whole face, her age showed in her slow gait and the creak in her voice.

"It has been too long, Madame," Vivienne said with a smile as she stood to greet the woman.

Madame Bonfoy hummed behind her mask, and turned her head to look at Nimwen. "Last I saw you, I made that gown for the Winter Ball. You wore the most hideous leather armour."

"I still want to thank you for your help back then," Nimwen replied, holding her tongue over the insult. "It was beautiful."

Madame Bonfoy laughed. "Caused quite a scandal form what I heard. Good. The fashion world has gone too long without any innovations for fear of breaking trends. Did you know that there are some women who are daring to wear skirts without hoops? Slowly but surely, Inquisitor."

"_Mamae_, what that?" Lori asked, her little finger pointing to one of the mannequins.

"That's called a corset, _da'len_," Nimwen explained.

"Can I have one?"

"Not for a long time," Nimwen said. _'Or preferably never,'_ she thought to herself with a shudder.

Madame Bonfoy's masked face turned to Lori. "Ah yes, you're here for her."

"It's high time the girl received garments more worthy of her status," Vivienne said.

"Bring her over and we can get started," the seamstress said.

Nimwen lifted Lori onto her hip and carried her to the corner of the boutique where there was a small pedestal. Nimwen set Lori onto it and reminded her to stand still. She suddenly remembered not too long ago, when she had stood on the same pedestal being ordered not to fidget as she was measured.

"Measure," Madame Bonfoy said to the elven servant.

The girl bowed and pulled out a measuring tape.

"I did send her measurements ahead of time," Nimwen said as the servant began to measure Lori.

"Children are the worst to measure; they squirm and move. I don't want to go off inaccurate numbers," the seamstress explained as she sorted through her tools.

"I don't think I remember this one," Vivienne said from the seat she took. "Wasn't your last assistant a human girl, with the red hair?"

"That stupid cow was a thief," Madame Bonfoy spat. "She'd make off with my spools and even a pair of my shears!"

"A shame," Vivienne said. "Still, I didn't know you took on elven servants."

Nimwen saw the girl flinch as she put the tape around Lori's waist.

"In the past I didn't, but this one proved useful. She hasn't stolen from me, yet, she's quiet, doesn't ask stupid questions, she's got quick fingers, and those small hands do better detail work than that redheaded pig ever could. Don't know why I didn't get a rabbit sooner."

Nimwen stiffened. Out of the corner she could see Vivienne cast a glance at her, and once again Nimwen found herself holding her tongue. She reminded herself that Madame Bonfoy was old, not to mention a brusque woman, and that such language had been ingrained in the human's vocabulary. It still didn't stop her from being irritated or feel like all of her work had done nothing to change the common folk's view of elves.

She looked at the servant, wondering her reaction, and was surprised by what she saw. The tension in her frame had relaxed, and there was even a small smile on her face. There was almost a...pride in her eyes? Was the Madame's compliments worth being called a rabbit? The mage then remembered what Madame Bonfoy had said, that she hadn't employed an elf until recently. _'Maybe some things are changing,'_ Nimwen thought to herself. _'Slowly but surely.'_

"That tickles," Lori giggled as the tape was put around her calf.

"F-forgive me," the elf girl stammered.

"Don't worry, she's ticklish everywhere," Nimwen assured her.

"Are you done, Melda?"

"Yes, Madame," Melda replied, winding the tape back into its role.

"Alright, give me those measurements."

Melda handed the sheet of paper she used to record the measurements to the seamstress.

"Now," Madame Bonfoy began as she glanced over the paper. "You've requested four dresses?"

"Yes, two for more informal occasions, and two for formal wear," Vivienne said.

"Do have a preference for the materials?"

"Preferably something sturdy, easily cleaned," Nimwen said.

"Is this a gown or a travelling cloak?" Madame Bonfoy asked indignity.

"Well it's just that, Lori can be-"

"I want that!" Lori said, pointing to a shimmery gown on a mannequin.

"Sea silk?" asked Madame Bonfoy.

"Perfect," Vivienne replied.

"Right…" All Nimwen could think about were the multiple and creative ways her daughter would surely ruin a silk dress.

"As for colour," Madame Bonfoy continued. "I would recommend a robin's egg blue, to bring out the colour in her eyes-"

"Green!" Lori interrupted. "I wanna green."

Madame Bonfoy looked to the Inquisitor.

"Birthday girl's choice," Nimwen said with a shrug.

"Green, green," Lori chanted happily.

The seamstress sighed behind her mask. "Very well. Go get the colour samples," Madame Bonfoy said to Melda.

While the elf grabbed a large leather book, Nimwen lifted Lori from the pedestal.

"Bring her here," said the seamstress, waving Nimwen over to the table where the book lay open. "Have her look through these."

"Alright. _Da'len_," Nimwen looked to Lori. "She's going to have you look through different colours, and you tell her which ones you want."

Lori's eyes widened. "Me choose?"

"Of course," Nimwen chuckled. "You're the birthday girl."

A grin broke onto Lori's face as she squirmed to get out of her mother's arms. The girl scrambled over to the table, climbed up onto the chair, and began to scan the various swatches of green fabric.

"Come here, darling." Nimwen turned around and saw Vivienne pat the space beside her on the lounge, two glasses of wine sitting on the coffee table. Nimwen cocked her head towards Lori, who was asking Madame Bonfoy about a piece of ring velvet.

"She'll be fine," Vivienne assured her with a wave of her hand. "The Madame has handled nobles who were more petulant than Lorien ever could be."

Nimwen joined Vivienne on the couch, taking the glass when the enchantress handed it to her. "So tell me, dear," Vivienne began after taking a sip of her wine. "How have you been enjoying Val Royeaux?"

Nimwen drank some of her drink, enjoying the sweet flavour mixed with the burning she'd grown accustomed to after being introduced to human alcohol. "Aside from the _incident_, this has been nice," Nimwen said. "I'm still surprised you managed to take time away from court to spend a holiday with me."

"You say that as if your company is beneath me," Vivienne said with an amused smile. "And I've missed you, darling. It's been far too long. Lorien has grown so much. It's seems like yesterday she was still in swaddling."

"I know," Nimwen said, looking over at Lori. She could feel Vivienne's eyes on her. "What is it?"

"How do you feel about the return of our dear Solas?"

Nimwen's fingers tightened around her wine glass. She took another sip, the liquid running down her throat like velvet. "I...was very glad when he first returned."

"At first of course," Vivienne said. "But now that the shock and sudden feelings have had time to settle, what do you feel now?"

Nimwen pursed her lips, cursing Vivienne's perceptiveness. Having friends who all had their own ways of reading people, Nimwen sometimes forgot that those same insightful eyes could be turned on her. "I want to be angry," Nimwen said quietly. "I know I am capable of being angry. I feel it like coals in the back of my mind waiting to be stoked, but every time I try, it's never anger. It's…" Nimwen bowed her head, drinking more wine.

"What is it, darling?"

Nimwen sighed. "I just feel sad. I want to punch him right in the face, but I can't because the thought of him being hurt by my hands is something I can't bear. I also want to just forgive him for everything he's done, just let it all go, but I can't just forget about the hell he put me through."

"Good, you shouldn't," said Vivienne. "You have a forgiving heart, Inquisitor, and so far it hasn't gotten you killed. Just remember though, my dear, that you should not be so quick to forgive those who have wronged you, especially those closest to you. You are the Inquisitor, Nimwen, and as such you should not feel you owe anything to a hermit who broke your heart."

Nimwen understood what Vivienne was saying, and yet she didn't know if she could live up to the enchantress' advice. She was a forgiving person, and was aware that she was perhaps _too_ forgiving, but she despised holding grudges. They were like a poison festering in her, and she was desperate to purge herself of the ill feelings, even if it meant apologizing even when she knew she was in the right. As for the rest, Vivienne was wrong. Nimwen owed much to Solas. He was the one who saved her from the Anchor in the first place. He gave her knowledge and ideas she'd never dreamed of and was an intellectual equal-or perhaps better- whom she could express her thoughts and visions and receive not ridicule, but true discussion. He had helped her when she was at her darkest, he gave her a love and passion she thought she'd never have, he had been her first, and most of all he'd…

Nimwen glanced over at the table. It seemed Lori had selected her favourite colours, and was babbling away as Madame Bonfoy and Melda went over designs, holding them up to Lori and then making notes.

Nimwen sighed. Solas had given her Lorien, her beautiful little girl. They were now bound by both past and blood, and until he showed himself to be a true villain, Nimwen would never be able to let him go. Whether she wanted to or not.

"Are you alright, darling?" Vivienne asked, noticing how quiet she'd become.

"I'm fine," Nimwen dismissed. She downed the last of her wine and stood, smoothing out the skirt of her robe. "I think I'll take a quick stroll, would you mind watching Lori?"

"Of course, my dear," said Vivienne.

"_Da'len_?" Nimwen turned to Lori. "I'm going out but I will be right back. Do what Aunt Vivienne and Madame Bonfoy say, alright?"

"Okay _mamae_," Lori nodded.

Nimwen smiled. "Good girl." She left the shop and let out a sigh of relief when the sun hit her face. She began to walk down the path, less noticeable now that she was out of the company of Vivienne, but for those who knew the face of the Inquisitor even out of her armour, their eyes were on her. Her thoughts still swarmed over what Vivienne had said, and she yearned to focus on something else. An idea struck her, and with a small smile she walked towards the staircase that would lead her to the upper levels of the summer bazaar. Many sat amongst the rooftop gardens and by the fountain, but Nimwen made a course for the little store tucked away in the corner. She entered the shop and was absorbed by the smell of paper, ink, and wax. She inhaled the smell, a comfort washing over her like the scent of trees and mint.

"Inquisitor!" the masked merchant happily greeted the elf.

"Greetings, Willvan," Nimwen smiled. The bookstore owner was one of the few people in Val Royeaux whom Nimwen could greet with a genuine smile. He'd helped her expand the Inquisition's library, and assist her in tracking down hard-to-find and obscure books.

"I was unaware you were in Val Royeaux," said Willvan.

"Vivienne arranged a holiday for myself and my daughter."

"Ah yes how is the young Lady Lorien?"

"Enjoying herself," Nimwen replied.

"Would you happen to be interested in a new story book for the young Lady? We have a variety right back here in the-"

"I'm just here to look," Nimwen told Willvan before he could tear apart the store looking for children's books.

"Has anything interesting happened since I last came here?" Nimwen asked as she leafed through a book on flower arrangements.

"Hmm, nothing in particular-by Andraste!"

"What?" Nimwen jumped.

Willvan clamped his hands, a gleeful smile on his masked face. "I had almost forgotten! Forgive me my Lady, there is so much work and things tend to become jumbled-"

"I shall forgive you as soon as you tell me what needs forgiving," Nimwen said with an amused chuckled, her eyes watching the human merchant tear through a crate near the back of the shop.

"I found it," Willvan said.

Nimwen raised a brow. "Found what?"

"This!" The Orleasian proudly presented her a thick tome with stiff brown leather covers and yellowed pages.

At first Nimwen was confused, until recollection struck her and she gasped. "You found Naiverna's anthology?!"

"Indeed I have," Willvan said, pride vibrating in his voice. "It was not easy mind you, pre-Glory Age elven poetry tends to be a tricky thing to track down, but I have proven to be quite the hunter," the merchant said with a laugh.

"Indeed you have," Nimwen smiled. Once while reading through a book of Orleasian poetry, Nimwen had stumbled upon a snippet from a poem hidden amongst the well-known poets of the time, named _Ode to the Mother_. Though translated into Common, Nimwen knew by the structure and subject matter that the original had to be elven. She searched for more but all she could find was that the poem was originally by a poet named Naiverna. She'd asked Willvan if he could look into finding more works by Naiverna, though Nimwen was doubtful any could be found given so little elven literature had survived the years. "This is incredible, Willvan. Where did you get it? Are they all in elvhen?"

"Not all I'm afraid," the merchant apologized. "The book is not an original, rather a copy transcribed by a Nevarran poet who apparently studied with Naiverna. Most of it is in Common, but there are some in complete elvish, including that one you mentioned, the _Ode to the Mother_ was it?"

"Yes, it was a poem about Mythal," Nimwen explained. Her heart sunk a little knowing not all of it was in elvhen, or penned by the true author even, but still, a piece of her people's past had been found, and that was what mattered. Perhaps Nimwen would even be able to translate the poems written in Common? She of course knew her vocabulary was still limited compared to all the elven words drifting about unreadable. She'd be better off giving it to So-

"Thank you once again for this, Willvan," Nimwen said, holding the book close. "You shall be paid handsomely I assure you."

"Thank you Inquisitor, you are my favourite customer for a reason," said Willvan.

Footsteps grew louder heralding someone's entrance into the shop.

"Can I help you?" Willvan asked the new customer.

"Is the Inquisitor here?"

Nimwen turned around, interest piqued. "Yes?"

The young elven man sighed in relief. "Thank goodness you're here, I feared I would have to comb all of Val Royeaux," he panted. The young man had light olive skin with black hair tied into a neat ponytail. He wore simple robes that were dust-coated from travel, with a bag strapped to his back.

"Who are you?" Nimwen asked.

Despite still clearly exhausted, the elf stopped his panting and straightened up. "I-I'm Brindel, your Worship," he said. "I'm from the _Dirthara'len,_" he said.

"Oh," said Nimwen. The _Dirthara'len_ was a group of scholars, researchers, and assorted adventurers all interested in uncovering elven artefacts and history. Given that theirs was a goal Nimwen approved of, the Inquisition had funded a few of the _Dirthara'len's_ ventures, and in exchange the group had been willing to trade research with the Inquisition's scholars. "What can I do for you, Brindel?"

"I was sent here by Professor Roland," Brindel explained. "We've been looking into a lead and believe we are on the trail of a shrine of Dirthamen."

"That's fantastic," Nimwen replied. "But I doubt Professor Roland sent you all this way just to give me good news."

"You're as clever as they say," Brindel said with a nervous smile. "Unfortunately you're right, you see we think the shrine is located somewhere south of Emprise du Leon and while we've managed to gather together the tools and people for the excavation, we don't have the funds to handle long-term encampment in all that snow. The professor asked me to find you to request our team be given permission to establish our base camp in Suledin Keep."

"I see. Well, so long as you don't disturb the soldiers there I don't think that will cause too much of a problem. I shall send word to Baron Desjardins that you are to be allowed stay at Suledin Keep for the time of your expedition."

"Thank you, your Worship, you are too kind," Brindel said, bowing. "I shall send word to Professor Roland. _Dareth shiral_, Inquisitor."

"_Dareth shiral, lethallin._"

A look of shock took over Brindel's face. Then, his disbelief morphed into a boyish grin as he sprinted from the shop.

"My, such a hurry. He was just wheezing for breath a minute ago," said Willvan.

Nimwen chuckled. "Sometimes excitement steps in where stamina left."

"I suppose so," Willvan replied.

"I must be going. I need to make sure that Lori has not driven Madame Bonfoy completely mad."

"The young Lady is with Madame Bonfoy?" the merchant asked, surprised. "That woman has a tongue sharp as a wyvern. I shall pray for young Lady Lorien."

"It's not her who needs your prayers," Nimwen retorted. "Thank you once more for finding this, Willvan."

The book seller bowed with a flourish. "I aim to please, my Lady."

Nimwen shook her head fondly as she left the store. While walking down the stairs to go back to the boutique, Nimwen tilted her head back and sighed, feeling the warm sun on her skin. She held Naiverna's anthology to her chest, and waltzed down the streets of Val Royeaux feeling lighter than she had in ages.


End file.
